The Good Witch
by Asphalt Angel
Summary: The Witch is dead, but that doesn't mean the war is over. A queen must be restored, a princess redeemed, and many battles must be fought in order to make peace. This is a story about finding one's place when happily ever after doesn't happen. DG/Cain
1. Mothers, Fathers, Sons, and Daughters

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Mothers, Fathers, Sons, and Daughters

Warnings: It's dark and there's some language.

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. The witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. No happily ever after in sight.

* * *

Wyatt Cain stumbled out of the Witch's tower, dizzy with fatigue and half-blinded by the new morning sun. The noise, the agony of dying men and animals, assaulted his ears, and the after-battle smell of blood and decay nearly made him wretch. The resistance had drawn out the Longcoats during the night, and the survivors were hurrying to clear away the fields, secure their prisoners, tend to the wounded.

And Jeb- Jeb was somewhere among them.

Wyatt forced his eyes away from the rows of bodies laid out for burial. The majority of survivors were gathered near the makeshift tents that had been set up several yards to the west. The thin cloth was meant to give the illusion of privacy for the wounded- not that there was enough room. Men and women whose injuries were less severe lay in the open air while their comrades gave them whatever aid they could.

A pair of fighters carrying a bleeding man between them hurried by, jostling his shoulder. Wyatt grimaced at the pain, wishing he'd spared a moment to let Raw tend to him. He could almost hear DG's scolding voice in his head, telling him what a fool he was.

A sudden, real voice jolted him back to reality:

"Father."

Jeb stepped out from a ragged group of people and slowly came forward. He was pale beneath the smatterings of dirt and gore, and his eyes were hazy with exhaustion. Not trusting himself to speak, Wyatt simply held out his good arm and let his son fall against him.

"You're wounded," Jeb managed, his voice hoarse and tired.

"Could say the same," Wyatt answered, noticing the way his son held all of his weight on his left leg. "Someone should have a look at you."

Jeb shrugged. "It's not even a proper battle wound. Horse got shot from under me, took a tumble... Lot of folks need looking at more..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Wyatt knew the boy's composure was frayed to the last- and his own wasn't much better. He carefully guided them both down onto a clean patch of grass, grabbed Jeb's canteen off his belt, and handed it to him.

Jeb gulped down the water, then scrubbed his hands over his face, muttering curses in a low voice. Wyatt opened his mouth to say some inconsequential thing- whatever would pull his son's focus off the battle he'd just been through- when a reverent hush fell over the entire field. The men bared their heads, and many even went to their knees as the restored queen came out from the tower.

Her consort came next, and at his side were DG and-

"Azkadellia!" Jeb started to scramble to his feet, but Wyatt grabbed his arm and hauled him back down.

"Wait," he said sternly.

Most of the other fighters had similar reactions to Jeb's- and how strange it was to see Azkadellia flinch back from their anger- but Queen Lavender held up both hands to silence their rumblings.

Her voice rang out across the field, "My brave people, there will be time enough for better explanations later. But for now, know that the O.Z. is free. The Witch is dead. And my daughters-" here she smiled, and her eyes glimmered with tears- "both of my daughters are restored to me."

"Long live the Queen!" Ahamo shouted, to be hesitantly echoed by the crowd. "Long live the Queen!"

* * *

Movies, DG decided- even the goriest ones- didn't do a battlefield justice. You couldn't smell a movie, and even if it did have realistic swarms of flies, you didn't have to swat them away. And all of that happily ever after stuff was totally crap.

Except she was happy; she had her family back, had her home back... But there was supposed to be triumphant music, and maybe a parade. Confetti from the sky, too.

Instead, there was clean-up.

And all she could think about was being tired, and needing a shower, and wanting everyone to just be okay.

She had tried to help with the wounded, thinking that between magic and basic first aid she could do something... until the sight of a resistance man's leg being amputated had left her vomiting in the grass.

She'd handed her duties over to Raw, who actually could heal some of the damage, and Glitch, who did little more than apply pressure to wounds in between making squeamish noises- but at least didn't lose his stomach. Then she'd tried to find Cain, but had given up when one of the fighters she'd asked about him said he was with his son. That had lead her to return to her own newly-reunited family.

She and Azkadellia both ended up following their father and a few other men back into the tower on a mission to ransack the Longcoats' barracks. Azkadellia readily told them where to find food, medical supplies, camp gear, and the like. The men grabbed weapons, too, at Ahamo's suggestion, and DG shivered when she realized the danger they were still facing- who knew how many Longcoats were still out there, or how soon word of the Witch's defeat would reach them?

"I need to change," Azkadellia murmured, tugging at the constraining dress she wore. Her eyes darted about wildly, as if she expected something to jump from the shadows at any moment.

DG silently berated herself for not expecting her sister's damaged emotional state anymore than she'd expected to still be in danger. She found what looked like a soldier's footlocker, threw open the lid, and rummaged around until she found a pair of pants and a shirt that would be passably fitting on her sister. "Here," she said, handing the drab garments to Azkadellia. "They're old, but they'll be better for working than that get up you're in. And-" she grinned- "mother won't only have my wardrobe to be worried about."

Her sister managed a slight smile and took the clothes. After a few moments of searching they found the washroom, which reminded DG of the gym locker rooms in high school, and Azkadellia hurriedly changed. Then DG helped her take down her hair and wash off her make-up.

Without the Witch's trappings, she looked years younger, and painfully fragile. When Ahamo, arms loaded with supplies, found them, he immediately dropped everything he was carrying and drew her into a hug. "My daughter," he said, "my beautiful daughter."

DG shuffled her feet, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but more than ready to return to the open air- and certain Azkadellia must feel the same.

Ahamo apparently noticed because he stepped back and started giving instructions. "Those boxes I had, they're full of field rations- best we can do for food until we get some fires going. The resistance men will have already gotten water, your mother will have seen to that, but they'll be hungry."

"We'll take care of it," DG assured him, already moving. She bent and picked up one of the boxes, feeling the strain in her arms. "Come help me, Az," she told her sister. "We'll go together."

"Yes, of course." Azkadellia picked up the other box, struggling beneath its weight, and slowly headed for the stairs.

DG followed, grateful when they made it out into the warming sunlight. She dropped her box unceremoniously to the ground and tore the lid open. Inside were packets of dried fruit and nuts, salted jerky, and unappetizing nutritional bars.

"No wonder the Longcoats were so grumpy," she joked. "They were eating this stuff."

Azkadellia didn't laugh. Her eyes were on the clusters of fighters gathered about the field, most of whom were watching them warily. Some even had hands to their weapons, however discreet.

DG choked back her anger and tried to mimic her mother's calm, untouchable air. "Come on, Az," she said grimly, "they'll thank us soon enough for feeding them."

Her sister didn't move. "I-I don't think this task is suited to me, DG... I... I won't be welcome..."

"Oh, Az," DG sighed, moving to stand in front of her, "Mother has to have explained the whole story by now. They know you aren't the Witch."

"But I still look like her," Azkadellia answered, wiping sudden tears from her eyes. "I still remind them of her." She drew a shuddering breath. "You go. I'll wait and help Father."

DG hesitated, reluctant to leave her sister by herself in such a state. Their mother's approach, however, prevented her from offering any argument.

Lavender embraced them and glanced at the boxes of rations on the ground. "I see that your mission is successful. Your father will be bringing more supplies soon, I trust."

"Yes, and DG was just about to bring food to the men," Azkadellia said softly.

"Not if-" DG began, then stopped at her sister's pleading glance. "Right," she said, "they must be pretty hungry."

"Indeed," Lavender agreed. "Go on, then. I shall stay with your sister. You need to rest, my Azkadellia, you have not your full strength." She put a gentle hand on her eldest daughter's cheek as she spoke.

DG caught her mother's eye and gave her a grateful look before grabbing as many packets of food as she could carry. "Here I go waitressing again," she said in mock complaint. "Isn't this improper for a princess?"

Lavender smiled. "Nothing is more proper," she stated, "than for a princess to serve her people."

* * *

Dirt spattered over canvass as Jeb Cain buried another of his fighters. It wasn't a proper way to lay a man to rest, wrapped in rough fabric instead of placed in a pine box, but it was all he could do for them.

Consort Ahamo had found the shovels to dig the graves, and cloth to cover the bodies- had even helped with the burials, working through the hottest part of the day. But the Queen had summoned him over an hour ago, and Jeb had dismissed the rest of his men shortly thereafter with orders to get some food in them- and then some sleep if they could manage it.

Wearily, he leaned on his shovel and wiped the sweat from his brow, wishing he could follow his own instructions. But there was still work to be done.

"Is there no one to help you?" came a soft query from behind him.

Jeb whirled around, grimacing as the pain flared up in his injured leg. It took all of his considerable willpower to keep his hand from straying to his gun at the sight of the Princess, Azkadellia. He'd heard what the Queen had said about her being controlled by the Witch- and standing there with her eyes downcast, dressed in old worker's clothes, she certainly didn't look like the woman he'd spent so much of his life hating... But still...

She looked up at him briefly before her gaze skittered back to the ground. "Or, perhaps, you would rather do this work alone?"

Jeb shrugged and dug his shovel into the earth. "Doesn't much matter. Just needs to be done." He blinked back the sparks that blurred the edges of his vision. Damn, but he was tired...

The scrape of another shovel against dirt and stone startled him. Azkadellia frowned and tried to dig as deep as he had, gasping with the effort. Jeb watched her struggle for a moment, wanting to take pleasure in it, but finding himself unable to.

"Don't overdo it," he finally advised, irritably, "just pick up what you can lift without strain." As an afterthought, he added, "Highness."

"Just Azkadellia," she said, "Or, no... just Az."

"You think I don't know your name?" he answered, more sharply than he'd intended.

Azkadellia shrank back, reminding him of a kicked puppy. He sighed, knowing his father would want him to be merciful- and not quite knowing why he should care what his father wanted. He gestured to the pile of dirt he'd already started. "Once I'm finished digging, do you think you can cover the hole back up again?"

The Princess nodded wordlessly.

"All right, then, just wait there till I'm finished," Jeb ordered, all the while telling himself he was a fool not to send her away. He shook his head and went back to the digging.

After a moment, Azkadellia spoke again, "These men, you were their captain?"

"Could call me that," he said. Then, remembering he hadn't returned her introduction, "It's Jeb, to most folks."

She said something else, to quietly for him to make out the words.

"Gonna need to repeat that."

"Thank you!" she blurted out, unnaturally loud, and cringed at her own volume. She took a breath and tried again, "I should thank you for fighting her. I... I tried, you know. I tried to fight. I- I- just couldn't stop her. And, I thought, if only I were stronger... if only I hadn't been so young... then maybe... Or maybe if I'd just tried harder..."

Jeb thought of himself as a child, too small and weak to stop the Longcoats from beating his father, and quickly banished the memory. "No use wishing anything had been different," he said gruffly. "Only thing to do is get on with what you have." He finished digging the grave and moved to grab one of the bodies. "Get this man's feet."

Azkadellia obeyed. She really didn't have any arm strength, but Jeb didn't reprove her for it this time- merely shifted his hold so he could take the brunt of the weight himself.

"Cover him up, and pack the earth down," he instructed once they'd laid the body in the hole. "I'll start on the next one."

* * *

Smiling, Ahamo watched as his eldest daughter and the young resistance leader buried the men who had died during the long night. Though they did not seem to notice it, the two of them drew a great deal of attention as the day wore on; some men had even stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of their captain working side by side with the woman they'd known as their greatest enemy.

Most had gone on with their business after a few moments, but Ahamo had continued to watch as the hours passed. That Azkadellia had approached Jeb- so obviously burdened by the loss of his men- gave him hope that, though her spirit had been sorely damaged, she had not been broken.

Presently, he realized he was not the only one still observing the pair. He moved to stand beside the tin man, Wyatt Cain, who inclined his head respectfully.

"Your Majesty."

Ahamo chuckled. "Such formality is unnecessary for one of my daughter's companions. And," he added, "for one who shares with me the joy of regaining his family." He inclined his head towards Jeb. "He is your son, I believe?"

"Yes, sir." Cain's smile was slight, but proud.

"The pain these years have forced on our children," Ahamo murmured. DG had told him pieces of the tin man's story, enough for him to know he was a kindred spirit- a father, unable to spare his child from suffering.

Cain's eyes clouded, but he made no reply.

"And yet they come back to us," Ahamo continued. "And how they save us..." He nodded at Jeb again. "Your boy has a great heart, Mr. Cain... for which I'm grateful."

"So'm I, sir," Cain answered quietly. "So'm I."

* * *

The sky was dark by the time DG separated herself from the group of fighters who'd gathered around her- first, because she had food, and second, because she had stories to tell about her journey through the O.Z. It'd surprised her that they wanted to hear, and she'd had to keep catching herself when she used references from the Other Side, but they hadn't really seemed to mind.

They pretended to be hurt at her departure, calling to her imploringly, and she laughed over her shoulder. She was proud of herself, she had to admit, for lifting their spirits.

She started out looking for Cain, but crossed paths with her sister first. Azkadellia was sweaty and covered in dirt, but she seemed more at peace than she had that morning.

"DG," she said warmly. "Where did you end up all this time?"

DG grinned "Feeding hungry soldiers like you wanted me to, and then entertaining them with tales of my heroic adventures. What about you? You look like you rolled around on the ground all day."

"No, I was digging graves," her sister answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh... Okay..." DG wisely decided to change the subject. "We should find Mother and Father. I bet they'll be looking for us."

"There was a tent set up for them," Az said, pointing across the field. "The big one, in the center."

"Right." DG nodded and started walking with her sister close behind. Moments later she spotted Glitch wandering around, looking like he'd lost his way- or forgotten it. She called to him, and his face brightened.

"Hey, DG! I was just- I was just- well, I'll tell you when I remember! I-eeeeeaahhh!" His words were lost in an unmanly shriek when his gaze fell on Azkadellia. "The Witch! No, wait, we killed the Witch. Didn't we? Ding-dong, the Witch is dead? Hey, that's funny!" He laughed nervously to himself.

DG rolled her eyes and shot Azkadellia an apologetic glance.

"It's all right," her sister assured her, though her voice was sad. To Glitch, she said gravely, "I promise you, we will do everything to see that you are healed."

"Healed?" Glitch asked, confused. "Am I wounded? No, wait." Understanding dawned. "Sorry, sweetheart, don't think that was meant to be put back together."

"But we can still try," DG cut in optimistically. "Maybe there's a way."

Glitch made no reply, instead exclaiming, "Oh! If you're looking for your tin man, he's over by the fire." He pointed vaguely and headed off again.

"We will heal him," Azkadellia repeated, watching him go.

DG nodded absently, her eyes on the dark figures huddled around the nearby campfire. She turned back to Az, searching for an explanation as to why she couldn't continue to their parents' tent.

Her sister smiled knowingly. "Go to him."

It was all the permission she needed. She squeezed Az's arm, then took off. When she reached the fire, she immediately slowed, seeing that many of the men around it were trying to rest. She walked among them until she caught sight of a familiar cowboy hat shielding its owner's face from the light.

She could tell Cain was sleeping by the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His son lay nearby- also asleep- with head pillowed on his arms, but he jerked awake at DG's approach.

"Sorry," she whispered, crouching down beside him.

"'s all right, Princess." Jeb dragged a sleeve across his eyes. "Too used to being on alert is all." He glanced at his father, who hadn't woken. "He was waiting up for you, but-" here he smiled briefly- "he's getting a little old for this."

DG snickered. "He is not."

Sleep, she decided, was definitely the right idea. She eyed the duster Cain had thrown over his body, then made up her mind and snatched it for herself. She heard Jeb chuckle as she settled herself on it. Then she closed her eyes and let herself drift away.

* * *

Azkadellia had told her she'd find DG with her friends.

Lavander smiled as she looked down on her sleeping daughter, lying close to the tin man and his son. She had made certain the men guarding their encampment knew where DG was, in case anything should happen, but in that moment she knew no harm would come to her daughter so long as her companions were with her to prevent it.

She held a hand out to Ahamo as he came to her, and he clasped her fingers tightly. "The watches are set," he said, "All the men who are able will take turns."

"I think we are safe for tonight," Lavender answered. "The Longcoats that remain will take several days, at least, to organize."

"But they will," Ahamo said grimly. "They will come."

Lavender nodded, looking at her daughter once more, and then back at the man she loved. "Together, then," she said, "we shall face them."


	2. All the Queen's Men

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: All the Queen's Men

Warnings: Black, bleeding angst. Fewer dead bodies than last chapter, though.

Disclaimer: It still isn't mine.

Summary: The witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. The damage starts to show as the survivors ready themselves for a desperate ride.

* * *

The feel of something heavy settling on his chest jolted Wyatt out of his slumber. He sat up, gasping, frantically pushing the unfamiliar weight from his body.

A soft noise of protest penetrated the haze of his mind. His eyes focused on DG as she tucked the arm she'd apparently flung over him in her sleep back beneath her head. She mumbled something unintelligible and then lay quiet.

Wyatt scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed, grateful he hadn't woken her. He didn't want her knowing that her unintentional touch had startled him so. He guessed it meant he'd be sleeping alone for a while. Not that he expected differently.

He rested back on his arms and let his gaze travel around their encampment. It was near first light, he realized. Many of the men were beginning to stir, going about the business of preparing for a day most likely hadn't expected they'd live to see. He hadn't truly expected it himself. They'd only ever had a fool's hope of defeating the Witch, even with DG and her magic, and he'd known it. But after eight annuals of hell, he'd long accepted- even, at times, wished for- his own death.

That it hadn't come, he supposed, some would call a new beginning. But as he felt the still-fast cadence of his heart against his ribcage, he knew better. People as scarred as they all were didn't have new beginnings. And there was still work to do.

Wyatt looked to where his son lay, sound asleep, and wished he could let him remain that way. But Jeb was a commander of men now, and there were orders to be given. A gentle shake was all it took to wake him, though it was several moments- a testament to his weariness- before he was fully alert. Wyatt watched him take in the lightening sky and the stirrings of the camp, and nod to himself, as if forcing his head to clear.

"Thank you," he said, getting to his feet. His movements were stiff, cautious.

Wyatt gave him a pointed look. "How's your leg?"

"How's your shoulder?"

The two men scowled at each other, then Wyatt barked a laugh. "You are your father's son," he said ruefully.

"Seem to be." Jeb smirked before his expression grew serious. "The Queen's going to want to speak to me," he guessed.

"More than likely," Wyatt said, knowing his son would be offered a part in the battles to come. For a moment, he wished he could send Jeb off to some safe place- if any existed- and then join him there when the mess was over. But his boy was a man, and he made his own choices.

"She calls me Captain," Jeb said, frowning as if the title did not sit well with him.

"Rightly so," Wyatt answered, "unless you plan on laying down your arms." He hoped for it, even as he knew it wouldn't be.

"Just not that easy," Jeb said. "So there it is. Are you coming with me?"

Wyatt picked up his hat and set it on his head. "Let's go see the Queen."

* * *

It was the noise that slowly pulled DG out of her slumber. Her limbs were stiff and her skin felt cold and clammy. "No palaces and fancy dresses for this princess," she muttered, opening her eyes to the dreary morning.

She rolled onto her side, expecting to see Cain asleep beside her, but the ground was cold and empty. She got up and looked around until she spotted him and his son in what appeared to be a serious conversation with her parents.

Jeb was the one speaking as she approached: "The Longcoats garrisoned in Central City, along with any stragglers or outpost guards they can find, will march on this position. They'll arc around the Old Road-" here he made a sweeping gesture with one hand- "and cut us off if we try make for the northern palace."

DG watched her mother consider that, then say, "Finaqua, then. It is a defensible place. We must gather an army to us there and launch a counter-offensive."

"If we can make it ourselves," Cain cut in, sounding, DG thought, like his old, pessimistic self. "It's a rough journey, and we don't know for certain there won't be Longcoats or sympathizers to the south of us as well."

"What we do know for certain is that they'll be upon us if we stay here," said Ahamo.

"And my men won't be enough to fight them off," Jeb admitted, sounding pained.

Cain gripped his son's shoulder briefly. "I'm not disputing that we go. But it'll be a hard ride without much comfort at the end. DG- Princess Dorothy- was able to fix some of what Witch had done to the land, but-"

"We need no luxury, Mr. Cain," Lavender said. "I've been a queen at war before, you will remember. I know what it is to be so."

Cain nodded, chastened. "Of course, Your Majesty."

DG frowned at their exchange and its implications. They were leaving soon; they had to. That meant- "Glitch!" She exclaimed. "What about Glitch? We have to fix what the Witch did to him! And what about the people who are wounded? We can't just leave them behind!"

Her mother spoke calmly, "Ambrose- or Glitch, as you call him- is with the Viewer, Raw, whose gift may help him recover his memories, and... compensate... somewhat, at least, for what was done to him."

"But can't he be fully healed?" DG demanded. "If we stayed, could we do it? How much time would it take? What we we have to do? Our magic-"

"Our magic cannot do everything," her mother chided, "and this was not a thing that was meant to be undone by any means. The attempt would, at best, cause his condition to worsen. In all likelihood, it would kill him. This, I'm afraid, is our best option for restoring some of his mental capacity. Raw will work with him... and then that machine will be destroyed."

DG thought of the promise she and Az had made the night before. "It isn't fair."

"No, my angel, it is not," her mother agreed, "and it must be left at that."

"As for the resistance," Jeb said, "there's a village not far where there's support. Folks will care for our wounded, hide them if trouble comes. We already started sending wagons."

Of course, he wasn't going to leave any of his fighters to die. DG couldn't believe she'd thought it, even in a moment of panic. "I'm sorry, Jeb," she said to him, "I know you take care of your people."

The resistance leader shrugged. "They'll be happy knowing you care about them, too, Princess."

DG did her best not to wince at the title. "Right."

"We'll make ready now," her father said. "As many horses and riders as you can spare, Captain Cain, send out with word that the House of Gale has been restored. Give them orders to call up every able-bodied man and boy who would fight for our cause. They can reassemble with us at Finaqua."

"Yes, sir." Jeb gave them a departing nod and hurried to carry out the order.

DG looked at her parents, expecting to be scolded. "I'll think before I speak next time," she said preemptively. "You know, this royalty thing... still learning."

For a moment, sadness clouded her mother's expression, but she smiled it away. "Of course, my angel. It will come naturally, in time." She smoothed DG's tousled hair, paused uncertainly- as if she thought she'd done wrong- then dropped her hand awkwardly back to her side. "Well. We must prepare."

DG watched her true parents go, and guiltily wished for the fake ones who would have held her and told her everything would be just fine. She even wished for Kansas and the farm life that had been so simple- and whoever thought she'd come to that?

She realized Cain was still there, watching her.

Sheepishly, she held out the duster she'd taken from him to sleep on. "I brought you this." She tried to read his expression and couldn't. "Is this the part where you lecture me for barging in on your planning session?" She had, after all, insulted his son in her carelessness.

"DG, you're a Princess," Cain answered patiently. "It's your right to speak at a war council."

"You called me Princess when you spoke to my parents, too," DG said with a high, nervous laugh. "Princess Dorothy, who hardly remembers the land she comes from, who can speak even if she doesn't have a clue what she's talking about! Who gets a war instead of her happily ever after!" She punctuated each of the hated, cliché words with an angry stamp at the ground.

Cain looked bemused by her sudden outburst, but, without a word, he put an arm around her shoulders and held her while she sniffled back unexpected tears. She didn't know why, after everything that had happened since she'd been swept into the O.Z., this was the moment that suddenly made it seem too much.

The tin man put a hand beneath her chin and made her meet his gaze. "You've got to find the fight in you," he said with quiet seriousness. "'cause I can't stop what's coming, kid."

And DG looked at him, the man who had lived for her- because even if he'd only done it to pay her back for setting him free, he'd still done it, and that mattered. She wiped her eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I know."

"Better?" Cain asked.

"Yes," she said, even though it really wasn't. She would be a princess, she told herself; she would be like the mother she'd been born to, not the one who'd raised her. "What do we have to do?"

* * *

The hastily-made camp was disappearing with equal haste, and it still wasn't fast enough. Azkadellia wanted to scream at Jeb Cain's men to hurry so they could leave the wretched place.

At least they no longer looked at her with open enmity- or worse, fear. They had no time to look at her at all.

She wandered like a wraith among the graves she'd helped to cover, marking them with small stones she'd gathered from the grounds. She could count them that way, she could know... Sixty-six, sixty-seven.

The Witch had never kept track of her victims, so that made her different.

Not the Witch.

She wasn't the Witch.

She ran out of stones and had to go searching, head down, picking them up as she went and carrying them in the folds of her too-large shirt.

A brief commotion sent her skittering back, and she realized how close she had strayed to the tower. The Viewer who'd traveled with her sister was coming out, half-leading, half-carrying the adviser, Ambrose.

Her mother had explained about that, of course.

Azkadellia, who knew what it was to have power- however it had been forced on her- felt hollowed out and helpless with the lack of it. There was simply nothing that could be done, no way to atone for this one of so many crimes.

No. The Witch's crimes. Not hers.

She watched in horrified fascination as they laid him on a wagon- shuddering, eyes rolling- and covered him with a blanket. The Viewer must have sensed her, for he looked up sharply, then shrank back against the wagon's side.

She wanted to scream, then, because he, of all of them, had to know that she was not the Witch.

Unless she still was.

Perhaps, in the dark corners of her mind, bits that evil still clung to her, waiting to seep back in... Perhaps he knew it, and he feared her with good reason.

No, not her. The Witch.

But if she remembered what the Witch remembered, did that make her still the Witch?

Was she still the Witch?

Was she still the Witch?

"No!" She shrieked, whipping about. Her wild eyes fell on the tower and her control shattered. Sobbing, she flung the rocks she'd gathered towards its walls, fury mounting with each one that fell short of its mark. She had to destroy it, destroy the Witch. Destroy the-

"Enough!" Someone caught her up from behind, pinned her arms at her sides, and held her in an iron grip.

She shrieked again, and stomped hard on her captor's foot, receiving a colorful string of curses in reply. Then she stopped. She knew that voice.

She knew. Not the Witch.

"Done, then?" Jeb Cain grumbled. "You know, you scared the wits out of the men, carrying on like that. Which left me to handle you when there's plenty else that needs doing." He loosened his hold on her, but only slightly. "Are you going to sit quietly if I let go?"

Azkadellia gave him a tiny nod.

"Good." But rather than fully release her, he shifted his grip so that he had one hand on her elbow, then used it to pull her roughly away from the tower. "Nearly got yourself shot, screaming and acting like a mad fool," he griped. "Men thought they'd be blasted by some dark magic if they got near you!"

Azkadellia knew she must have looked stricken because Jeb halted his tirade. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head.

"Well. What were you doing?"

"I was looking for stones," she answered. "to mark the graves. Someone needed to do it."

Jeb's expression softened a little. "That's a kindness."

She shrugged, only half-hearing him. "I didn't look where I was going, and then I was by the tower. I wanted to pull it down. It could be done with magic- but hers, or mine? I couldn't remember. And then I threw rocks instead." She rubbed her temples as she struggled to sort her thoughts. "I couldn't remember whose magic it was. I only know it's a wicked spell. But maybe I am wicked, as everyone thinks. A wicked witch. You think it, too, sometimes. What if I am?"

"I just told you that you'd done a kindness," Jeb answered, speaking as if she was a slow-witted child.

Kindness, she realized- hers, not the Witch's. The Witch was never kind.

"I wanted you to die, you know," she told him.

Jeb's eyes narrowed. "I might be changing my mind about you now."

"No," she said. "It would have been kind. Quick. The Witch liked pain to last. She liked it to leave marks." She thought of Jeb's father, then added, "You know this." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I wanted all of you to die. Just die."

Jeb was silent for a long while, head bowed as he considered her words. "Well," he said, finally, "there's no good way to say I'm glad you didn't get your way."

"No," Azkadellia agreed. "There's not."

* * *

Glitch was doing math.

The first raindrops of a new storm had started to fall, and the whole camp was in an uproar trying to get ready to leave before it got worse, and he was doing math.

DG wondered if math was a good sign.

She leaned over the side of the wagon and held his hand, but he kept talking as if she wasn't there. His typically sharp voice had taken on a more aristocratic tone as he murmured about speed and velocity.

"Remembers now," Raw said. "Remembers numbers. Glad for numbers."

DG smiled and shook her head. "Only you, Glitch..."

He blinked, and his face lit up. "Oh! Hey there, doll! I was calculating how long it would take to get to Finaqua- get to Finaqua- get to-" He jerked, and then his voice smoothed out. "I do think we should leave soon."

"We're going to," DG assured him. "Jeb and his men are just finishing loading supplies. See? Everyone's lined up and ready. "

Glitch brushed the raindrops off his face and looked around. "Well, good! I don't want to just sit here in the rain. It'll ruin my hair, my clothes-"

"Can't make 'em much worse, Zipperhead!" Cain called as he rode towards them.

"Aw, shove it, tin man, you don't know how to-" He stopped and turned to Raw. "I don't think I always talked like that."

"Not always," Raw confirmed. "Learned."

"Hmm." Glitch nodded thoughtfully. "I think I used to be better at insulting people... Ah ha! Cain, you crude ignoramus! Get out of my sight!"

"Whatever you say, Glitch," Cain answered, smirking. "I have to ride out anyhow." He nudged his horse closer to DG, saying, "Climb up, kid."

"Huh?" DG looked at him, confused.

"You're riding with me," Cain informed her, "and before you complain about how you know how to ride yourself- not fast enough, you don't, and you aren't armed if we come under attack. Anyhow, we can't spare the horse."

DG shut her mouth on her protests.

"Your family and as many as can guard you will be riding hard," Cain continued. "The rest will follow behind with the wagons. We'll regroup in the first safe town."

DG wondered where that would be, but what she said was, "Where are my family?"

"Your parents are already at the head of the column, which is where we should be as well. Your sister's coming, too-" Cain pointed over her shoulder- "She's right there."

DG looked back and saw Az riding with Cain's son, clinging to the arm he had around her waist, though Jeb looked none too happy about it. His men were backing out of the way as he passed, and not for the dark look on his face. He'd been the only one willing to take her, DG realized, the others were too afraid.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raw, too, was flinching and huddling closer to Glitch. "You don't need to be scared of her," she snapped.

"Raw not scared," he said. "Hurt." He put his hands over his heart. "Here. Much hurt. Can feel it."

"You must feel that from everyone in this crowd," DG said bitterly.

"Yes," Raw agreed.

Cain cleared his throat in the silence that followed. "Princess," he said. "We have to go now."

"Right." DG climbed onto his horse and settled in front of him, and she shivered at the feel of the pistol against her side.

They rode forward to join the rest of her family, where two dozen other riders formed up around them. DG watched her mother and father thank them, wishing she could have just a bit of their resolve. It was in her blood, she reminded herself; that meant she could do this.

Lavender stretched out her hands, one to her and one to Azkadellia. "Be brave," she told them, squeezing their fingers. "This time, too, will pass."

"Your Majesty," Jeb said, "at your order."

"Yes. Yes, by all means, Captain."

DG felt her mother's hand slip from her grasp as the Queen straightened.

"See you down the road," Cain said to his son.

Jeb gave a fierce grin, then shouted to his men, "Ride out! In the name of the Queen, ride out!"


	3. Uses of Power

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Uses of Power

Warnings: Language and violence

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. The witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. The road to Finaqua has unexpected dangers.

* * *

Night came, and the rain got worse.

Jeb could hardly see past his horse's ears as he rode, and he knew that his comrades were faring no better. They'd given up on calling out their proximity when their voices went ragged, but he guessed he was still ahead of most of them. He could feel Azkadellia shivering against him, and hoped for her sake that they'd come to shelter soon. He hardly even noticed the cold anymore- or the way his arm ached from supporting her weight for so long.

At last, someone hoarsely shouted, "Lights! Lights to the west!"

Jeb turned his head and squinted at the faint glow that marked a town. He joined the weary cheer that went up from his men and urged his horse onward. As he made his way, however, his hopes for a warm bed and a few hours' rest faded away. A group of men- a watch patrol, he figured- were riding out to meet them. In the flickering of their lanterns he could see bayoneted rifles gleaming.

"No," Azkadellia murmured fitfully. "No, no, no..."

"Shut up," Jeb ordered, praying that the night still concealed them. "You there!" He called out to the patrol. "My men and I have come from battle, and we've a need for shelter if you can provide it!"

"A messenger rode through before sunset," one of the watchmen called back, "bringing news of the Sorceress' fall. One of yours?"

"That's right," Jeb answered.

"You're the ones who fought her, then. And-" he swung his lantern up, but Jeb quickly shied his horse away- "now you mean to support the old royals."

"They do." Queen Lavender's voice was strong and clear as she came forward.

Jeb swore under his breath, even as he admired her courage for revealing herself. With her head held high, she stepped into the light and bore the low rumble of discontent that swept through the patrol.

"Lady-" the watchman who'd spoken addressed her with minimal courtesy- "you are not welcome here."

The Queen's expression didn't change. "You are not the Witch's loyalists," she observed, "nor do you side with the Longcoat remnants."

"Damned right," the man growled. "We'll make our own way now- so kindly move on and leave us to it!"

"Hold on!" Jeb blurted out, angry at the insolence. "If we could just-"

"Captain," the Queen rebuked him, "they will let us pass in peace. That is all we require."

Jeb started to protest, but remembered his discipline and mustered enough of it to keep silent.

"There's an old farm about half a mile from here," another of the men spoke, almost apologetically, "House got burned, but the barn's tolerable shelter for a night." With that, he wheeled about and followed the rest of his patrol toward the town.

Jeb watched them go, and let out a frustrated sigh. "I wish you hadn't shown yourself, Your Majesty. The Longcoats will pass through here next, and that's valuable information those men could trade."

"And what would have happened if they'd managed to get a look at you instead of me?" she demanded. "Would you have had me deliver my daughter into the hands of a lynch mob?"

Jeb felt Azkadellia flinch at her mother's bluntness, but he knew there was truth to it. "No," he said wearily. "I shouldn't have questioned your reasoning, Your Majesty."

Lavender's anger faded. "No. Forgive my temper, Captain Cain." She reached up and grasped her daughter's hands for a moment. "We are not at our best under such trying circumstances."

* * *

Wyatt knew DG was standing behind him; she had about as much ability to sneak up on a person as a herd of cattle. He pretended not to notice, however, and went on making sure the horses were tended to. He'd taken on the task for Jeb, who'd been grateful for one less thing to take care of.

Come to think of it, his son should have posted the watches and come back by now...

But Jeb was asleep in a shadowed corner, he realized. Azkadellia was crouched beside him, and Wyatt swore she looked pleased- for once- that her circumstances kept everyone away from them. Still, he wondered how anyone had gotten his boy to lie down while there was work to do. Then he caught sight of Consort Ahamo giving orders in Jeb's stead, and made a mental note to thank the man later.

"You're going to have to tell me," DG finally said to him.

Wyatt shook his head. "Not my place, kid. And you ought to turn in for the night, anyhow. You're gonna need the rest."

"Can't," she replied. "I told my father that if he was taking a watch, then he'd better give me and Az one, too. And since you're also on duty, you're stuck with me for the next two hours. And-" she added, before he could get a word in- "I have a right to know why we're in this situation. Turned away from a town and left to sleep in a barn... With bats!" She gestured toward the rafters and shuddered.

Wyatt smirked. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "Grew up on a farm, Cain. Remember? I just don't like them. There was a neighbor girl who-" she stopped abruptly, her face flooding with sadness. "I had a whole other life because this one got taken from me, and now that one's gone... And I'm trying to recover all the pieces of this one, so, come on, help me out here! Tell me why were we turned away."

He sighed, wondering how her entreaties always had a way of making him cave. "All right," he said, "you'll get your history lesson as soon as we post to the watch." He figured he'd be put on the lookout- and therefore escape the conversation he really wasn't looking forward to- but when the Consort saw that DG was with him, he held the both of them in reserve- which meant they were to stay in the barn unless called upon.

"I believe you're owed a light duty, Mr Cain," he said kindly, and Wyatt- though he knew his sharp sight and gunmanship would be put to better use outside- couldn't protest that.

He took a seat against the wall by the door and began checking his pistol. DG flopped down beside him, waiting expectantly, and he knew she was never going to give him peace unless he talked. "All right," he said, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. It wasn't easy looking back, remembering that times had been good once, and that it had all come apart so quickly. "The trouble started an annual or two before the Witch took your sister," he said. "Crop yields were down, folks were going hungry, and there were rumors of a sickness in the Guildfighter lands. The Queen asked her Lord Advisers to figure out what to do, but not everyone liked their solutions."

"What do you mean?" DG asked, confused.

Wyatt hesitated, but he couldn't stop telling her now. "Glitch's Sunseeder, for one thing. Folks got nervous when they heard one of the advisers was figuring out a way to extend the growing season, especially considering how little they knew about him. He wasn't like the other lords, didn't ever go out in public. They said he wasn't natural, and neither was what he was proposing to do."

"But he wanted to help people!" DG protested. "If the growing season-"

"If the growing season was longer the farmers would be able to produce more food, and there'd be plenty of herbs to make medicine- enough for the whole east if there needed to be. I know, kiddo, and I'm sure Glitch had the best intentions."

"So what was the problem?"she demanded.

"The farmers," Wyatt replied. "You said yourself, you grew up in that life. You know how hard the work is. Imagine adding time onto that." He watched her expression shift from confused anger to understanding. "People told the Queen it was the wrong way to do things, and they thought she understood them... But when the Papay Fields died and the Great Famine begun, the rumor was she'd used her magic to punish their dissent."

A look of horror swept over DG's features. "You didn't believe it was her, did you?"

Wyatt shook his head. "I've always thought your mother was a just ruler, kid. And, anyways, I was working the Mystic Man's detail, then. He knew enough about the Queen and her magic to know she wouldn't have done it. But a lot of folks accused her, and when Azkadellia came out and did the same-" he held up a hand to stop her from correcting him- "It was her face, kid, that everyone saw, and that mattered. She was young, but the O.Z.'s seen younger rulers in its history, and she's of royal blood, so her ascension to power was... acceptable. She came out in opposition of your mother's 'tyranny,' and she found an audience."

"But... how could they accept the things she did?" DG asked. "The people may have been angry and scared about the famine, but they had to have seen she was evil!"

"She restrained herself until she had total control of the O.Z.," Wyatt said, "and by then it was too late for anyone to turn on her and get away with it. I suspect some still tried- they say the Sorceress killed every nobleman east of the guildfighters' territory in one afternoon... Gave a lesson to the rest about what would happen if they didn't obey." He heard DG sniffle and reached out as she tried to duck her head, lifting her chin and gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. "And there's no sense laying blame for what happened on anyone but the Witch herself," he said firmly. "Okay?"

She bit her lip and nodded. She started to ask another question, but the sound of gunshots in the distance sent Wyatt bolting to his feet, reaching for his pistol.

"To arms!" That was Jeb, wide-awake and giving orders. "Those bastards in town sold us out!"

"No, those shots came from the main road!" Wyatt yelled back as he saddled his horse. "Longcoats must've caught up to the rest of the men!"

"Our people!" Queen Lavender gasped. "Our people are under attack!"

"Cain!" DG shouted, scrambling to her feet. "Wait for m-!"

But he kicked his horse into a gallop and her words faded into the night.

* * *

It took Ahamo a bit longer than the other men to mount up and ride- out of practice, he told himself irritably- and so he found himself having to catch up a bit. They rode hard, all of them no doubt thinking of their comrades under fire, and of their dearly-needed supplies. Ahamo shook off the memory of his wife's pale, stricken face and tightened his grip on his rifle. He could see gunfire flashes in the distance- still so far!- where the battle was being waged.

It had surprised him, initially, that their caravan had made it that close to the town, but he figured the storm had slowed their advance group to the point where they really hadn't been able to travel much faster despite being unburdened by carts and wagons. As for the Longcoats, some of them must have regrouped at one of the guard posts near the tower and turned back in pursuit, rather than heading for the bigger garrisons of men in Central City. At least, Ahamo hoped so, or else they'd be badly outnumbered.

"Break left and right!" Jeb Cain shouted as they drew closer to the action. "Flank these sons of bitches! Don't let any of them through!"

Ahamo wheeled his horse left, in step with the other men, quickly processing the scene. The Longcoats had the resistance men pinned down, hunkered behind the wagons in order to get some meager protection.

The newcomers crashed upon the battle, immediately diverting the Longcoats' attention. Ahamo trampled two men and shot a third before he was roughly pulled down. A solid punch to his jaw sent him sprawling. He struggled to his feet, using the butt of his rifle like a club.

Jeb's men were cheering when they realized their leader had come with reinforcements, and they readily joined the charge.

"Hey, Glitch!" Wyatt Cain shouted. "How come you're not out here dancing?"

"I was only waiting for the invitation!" Ambrose, as Ahamo knew him, eagerly spun into action, but there was no time to admire his work.

A Longcoat barreled forward, and Ahamo slammed a fist into his nose, feeling the snap of cartilage and the rush of blood. The man staggered back, but another was there, and Ahamo barely brought his rifle to bear in time.

There were screams- human screams, horse screams- the crack of gunshots, the pounding of fists, the scrape of metal, and then-

"They're running! The damned dogs are running!"

"That's twice you've turned tail now, you bastards!"

Ahamo wiped the sweat and blood off his face with a shaky hand. Coming down from the adrenaline rush always reminded him that, even though he could fight as well as anyone, he was no soldier. He'd lost his stomach for it back on the Other Side... a young man drafted, a life he barely remembered now...

"Your Majesty?" That was Jeb Cain's voice.

Ahamo shook his head clear and turned to the young captain. "You want to make your report?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. Ten men dead. Eight are wounded, but the Viewer said he can tend those. That's something to be thankful for."

"Yes," Ahamo agreed, knowing they couldn't spare anyone to see a seriously wounded man to safety. He thanked the gods, too, that the rest of the wounded- from the battle at the tower- had been sent away early on, and in another direction.

Jeb continued, "Some of the supplies aren't salvageable. Foodstuffs, mostly, and some of the tools we took. That'll hurt later."

"We'll make do," Ahamo assured him. "For now, let's bury our dead and return to the barn." He gazed up at the sky, which was just beginning to lighten. "I'm afraid there'll be no rest when we arrive."

"Guess I knew that, sir," Jeb answered, sounding untroubled. "My men and I can take it."

Ahamo looked at the dark shadows beneath the boy's eyes, but didn't disagree, recalling the fight it'd taken earlier that night to get Jeb to lie down. He meant to offer some praise for the resistance, then, but the young man's attention had shifted toward his father, whose wounded shoulder was being rebandaged by another fighter.

"Go on," Ahamo said knowingly. "He'll want to see you're unharmed, too."

* * *

Azkadellia thought her sister was going crazy. And then the humor of her thinking that about anyone struck her, and she had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle.

DG stopped pacing the barn long enough to give her an odd look. "You okay?"

Az nodded. "Y-yes... Just, ah, thinking... You're wearing out the ground."

"Because he left me here!" DG exploded. "He rode off when I could've helped him!"

Azkadellia gave her a dubious look. "You can shoot a gun?"

DG shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, a little. Plus, you know-" she waved her hands- "Magic. That's got to count for something."

"Untrained, you're worthless," Azkadellia answered, then blanched because the Witch said such things, too.

Did the Witch say them because she said them, or did she say them because the Witch had?

"Yeah, yeah," DG was saying, "I've seen enough war movies with the green rookie soldiers who know nothing, and- wait. You don't know about movies. Nevermind. Point is, don't we need everyone we can get?"

Az took a moment to catch up to her sister's line of thought, then shook her head. "The men managed, I'm sure."

But DG had a new idea. "What about you?" She asked. "You do know how to use your magic, and they left you behind, too. Couldn't you have helped?"

"With my magic..." Azkadellia felt the power within her, and remembered the dark, slippery feel of the Witch leeching it away from her, and she shuddered. Her magic was tainted, her magic had been used.

The Witch used it. She wasn't the Witch.

"No," she said quietly, "no, I couldn't."

"Well, still, we could've done more than just sit here," DG insisted. "I hate this part."

Her sister couldn't tell she still felt dirty, wondering how much the Witch had poisoned within her. So Az just smiled. "Only Mother worries so little."

"I'm jealous," DG muttered. Suddenly, her face brightened. "I hear riders!"

"I hope they're ours," Az said bluntly.

"Of course they are!" DG replied, as if there could be any doubt. The doors opened and she bounded to her feet. "Hey!"

Azkadellia saw their father ride in first, to be immediately greeted by their mother. He swept her up and kissed her soundly, heedless of their audience. He'd always done that, she remembered, back in the old times...

But now wasn't the time to remember.

More of the men came in, and wagons with them. Az noticed Ambrose and the Viewer in the group, so she knew they'd brought all the survivors from the caravan. The Cain men were the last to return, and she saw her sister fling her arms around Wyatt Cain's neck and hug him, which he bore with a put-upon sigh.

Then, curiously, DG pulled back and punched him- hard- in the chest. "You!" She shouted. "Don't ever leave me waiting like that again! You scared me!"

"Been through worse," Azkadellia heard him mutter, only to receive another punch.

"DG, don't hit a man after he's been to battle," Azkadellia scolded. "It's not proper gratitude."

Cain chuckled and nodded in her direction. "Thanks, Princess."

She smiled, surprised by his easy use of the formal address. To his son, she said, "Now I can tell you I'm glad you didn't die."

Jeb smirked. "Good to know, Your Highness."

There it was again, her title. Hers.

"So now," he added, "since I've got to carry you on horseback again, how about you show your gratitude by not leaning on me like a sack of potatoes this time?"

Azkadellia opened her mouth to say something indignant, but her sister's laughter stopped her. "I'll do my best," she promised dryly, delighted at how he grinned in return. She looked beyond him, inclining her head as her parents approached.

"Well done, Captain Cain," her mother said warmly. "You have given us our first victory in this war."

Jeb shrugged. "We got our people- most of them- out of harm, Your Majesty. Best we ride out now before we have to do it again."

"By all means," the Queen answered. "Finaqua awaits."


	4. Surface Damage

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Surface Damage

Warnings: I mixed the angst and the fluff. My bad!

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. The witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. Repairs and revelations at Finaqua

A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry that it took so long to update this- my laptop BROKE! It's fixed now, though, so I'm writing away at this tale again. I wanted to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews on the previous chapters; you all said such nice things, and I really appreciate it! Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

The palace at Finaqua stood, a broken and hollowed out shell. The Longcoats had stolen or destroyed everything of value, and cruelly vandalized the remains. And Lavender- who had shouldered the burden of rule, borne the loss of her family and her country, and withstood annuals of imprisonment and abuse- stood in the entrance hall and finally felt helpless.

She moved dazedly across the marble floor to the doors of the throne room. Someone had taken a blade and slashed deep into the wood. The word whore- over and over again- marred the delicate carvings of animals and flowers. She brought her hand up and touched it with trembling fingers. The palace had been her sanctuary, once, protected by her power- power she'd readily given up to save her youngest daughter. She'd never felt the loss of it as keenly as she did then, looking at the destruction she could have prevented.

Behind her, she heard Azkadellia's strangled cry, and DG's soft words of comfort, and felt a fresh stab of guilt at the pain she'd caused her children. That, too, could have been prevented, had she had more care and less pride.

"We'll clear this hallway first," Ahamo said bracingly, "then move on to the adjoining rooms."

Lavender shook her head. "No." She tore her eyes away from the damage and faced her husband. "We will work, you and I, because this is our duty. But the men here have ridden hard to bring us to safety with no promise of reward, or even of survival. I can demand no more of them now."

"They will obey their queen," Ahamo answered.

"Yes," she agreed, "but I will give no order to them. Let us accept help only from those who would volunteer it."

Jeb Cain cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," he said with uncharacteristic formality, as if conscious of what his surroundings had once been. "You'll want to give some direction to my men and I when we start cleaning this place up."

Lavender resisted the urge to seize both his hands in gratitude- she knew he wouldn't have it- and swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. "Thank you, Captain Cain," she managed. "We are grateful."

"It's in our interest," he said with a dismissive shrug. "That is, if we want a place to sleep tonight. We'll work in shifts, and, with your permission, I'll send anyone who's not on duty down to the lake to bathe."

"By all means." Lavender suddenly remembered how filthy they were after the wild journey. She brought a hand to her hair self-consciously. "We will all look to our health and this hall, and tonight we will speak of war. I would take council from you and your father."

Jeb ducked his head. "If I can give it, Your Majesty. From what we saw during our journey, this thing will be bigger than chasing down the Longcoats who're left."

"Indeed," Ahamo said. "There are many opportunists who'd see the House of Gale fall- more of them, perhaps, than there are Longcoat remnants. It will be war, a full war, for the throne."

"Our own allies will come," Lavender said. "The messengers we sent will have reached the furthest towns by now. They'll all be riding south with bands of men behind them." She injected as much optimism into her voice as she could- because she had to. She had to believe they would raise an army, or all would be lost.

* * *

Azkadellia remembered the sacking of Finaqua, remembered Zero carving the word 'whore' into the doors with his sword. But she was the whore; the Witch had made her so. Foul, dirty, used-

And there were too many mirrors, shattered mirrors all over the royal chamber, reflecting her time and time again. She kept expecting her face to become the Witch's face- thought her flesh would stretch tight and decay, her eyes shrink and grow colder…

"Azkadellia." Her mother laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The bath is drawn, and I've laid out some clothes that will be suitable for you. Go on, my daughter."

They were fortunate the plumbing hadn't been destroyed; the Witch had known better, with an army at her side, than to halt the flow of a needed resource. And, too, the thin cotton gowns the Queen had worn when she wasn't attending to the business of state were too plain to have been stolen or shredded as her other garments had been.

"Thank the gods for small favors," Azkadellia murmured, ignoring her mother's uncertain agreement. She went into the washroom and sank gratefully into the full bath.

It wouldn't make her clean, not really, but it would wash away the uncomfortable dirt and sweat from her skin. She undid her hair and slid fully under the water, remaining there until her lungs ached before resurfacing.

A knock on the door startled her. "Az?" It was DG's voice. "Come on, you're not the only one who's dirty here!"

"Oh, yes, I-" She rose from the bath and dried off with the rough cloth that had been left for her- "I'm getting dressed now, just a moment." She slipped on the old dress, grateful her mother had chosen one that would hang loosely on her body.

Her reflection in yet another broken mirror caught her eye. Bathed, she looked even more like the Witch, who'd insisted on keeping her possessed shell in fine form. She shook her head at her own foolishness. Of course she looked like the Witch. The Witch had looked like her.

"Az?" DG asked again.

"Yes, come in." Azkadellia buried her brooding thoughts, opened the door, and let her sister enter. "You'll need to draw fresh water…" She went back to the bath and pulled the stopper out of the drain. "And I need to fix my hair…"

DG set down the clothes she was carrying. "Would you like me to braid it for you? I think I have a hair tie." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small elastic, grinning triumphantly. "See? I do!"

Her sister was very good at pretending everything was all right, Azkadellia thought, and forced herself to do the same. "I'd like that." Because the Witch had never worn simple braids. And she was not the Witch.

"Okay, then." DG sat on the edge of the bathtub. "Sit on the floor in front of me so I can reach. It's too bad we don't have a brush."

"We're lucky we have anything," Az chided.

"Right, of course," DG said, her voice losing some of its brightness. After a moment, she spoke again, "Az? Can I ask you... how many Longcoats do you think are left?"

Azkadellia stiffened, and her sister immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry, I know it upsets you to think about, but I just… I counted the men, and there aren't that many, and I- I'm scared." Her voice trembled, and Az knew her sister's cheerful mask had come off completely.

"There may be thousands," she said, "and more will go over to them. Not-" here, she shuddered- "not out of loyalty to the Witch, but enmity towards us. But we are gathering our own army. Father told me he ordered messengers sent."

"To gather all the men and boys, I heard him." DG paused her braiding. "And I've been wondering… There are women in the resistance, and the O.Z. is ruled by a queen, so-"

"You want to know why Father didn't summon able women as well." Azkadellia wished her sister was wiser about warfare; as crown princess, she'd been the one who'd been educated in such matters, not DG. The Witch had loved what she knew, had used it to her advantage.

Dirty, used, whore-

DG's voice jarred her back into reality. "-said they'd still fight, and then Jeb ordered them to go with the wounded."

"Because the Longcoats always target women," she said, rubbing her stomach to ease the knots there. "I ordered- the Witch- ordered it. They killed women, and ravaged their bodies, and I- I couldn't- I-" she collapsed into tears.

"Oh, Az..." DG slipped down to the floor and pulled her into an embrace. "Oh, Az, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have asked!"

Another pair of arms joined DG's. Their mother. "Azkadellia, my Azkadellia, it's all right," she soothed. "It's okay, it's all right…"

"No," Azkadellia sobbed. "No, it isn't! It isn't!"

* * *

Jeb took his time returning from the lake, letting the heat of the afternoon sun dry his skin and clothes. It was harder to keep his weariness at bay now that he'd had some time away from his duties, but he lifted his head as he approached the palace and greeted the three men who were waiting for him. "Report."

His second-in-command, Jacob, said, "We've finished clearing the entrance hall, sir. We had all the debris piled up, and were trying to figure out what to do about the bits of glass and the like. Princess Dorothy came down and conjured up a breeze- swept it all away like a giant broom would."

"Took her a try or two," added Elias, "but she managed it. The men are probably still thanking her."

"And the rest of the royal family?" Jeb asked, yawning.

Kal spoke up this time, "Consort Ahamo is setting patrols, sir, and the Queen is upstairs with the older daughter. Girl was screaming so loud I'd bet the Longcoats in Central City heard her."

"Maybe that's what she wanted," Elias muttered, scowling when Jacob jabbed him in the arm.

"That's no way to talk," Jeb said carefully. He knew feelings about Azkadellia still ran high among his men- more so now that they'd made it to relative safety and had time to dwell on old grievances.

"Plain as day, that girl's not the Sorceress we all fought," Kal said. "But she is a danger, sir, unsettled as she is."

"We've all had enough done to us to be 'unsettled,' and we seem to have held up," Jeb answered.

"But we haven't got the power to suck men's lives out of them with a look!" Elias cut in. "Sir, what if she-"

"Enough," Jeb said. "I'll judge her on what I see her do, and nothing else. Isn't that what I did for you, Elias? Let you prove you were one of us, even though your father was a Longcoat general? And, you, Kal? I gave you a chance when the men said you were too old, and a poor shot, and worse." He took a calming breath and waited for them to back down, knowing they couldn't argue.

"She did help dig graves at the Tower," Kal conceded. "That was a sight, to be sure, sir."

"But-" Elias started, breaking off when Jacob struck him again.

Jeb gave his second a slight nod of thanks. "I think we're done here. Get cleaned up, and get a good meal in you." And weren't their diminished supplies one more thing he had to worry about? He waited till his men were gone, then slumped against the wall.

"Jeb?" The voice was soft, hesitant.

He thought it was Azkadellia, but when he turned he saw the younger Princess, DG, instead. He straightened up, regarding her warily. "Your Highness. What do you want?" It sounded rude, and he knew it when he saw her step back a pace, embarrassed. It was strange how he could talk to the woman who'd embodied evil for most of his life, and to the Queen of the entire O.Z., more easily than he could talk to her. But, then, she was the heroine- and she was his father's friend.

"I- uhm- I heard you," she said sheepishly. "Just now, I mean. I wanted to thank you. For what you said."

"Just the truth, Your Highness," he answered. "Any half-decent leader tells his men that."

To his surprise, she laughed. "You're as bad as your father at taking a compliment. It must be genetic."

He shrugged, uncomfortable. "You'll find I'm not much like him."

"Let's see," she said dryly. "Stubborn, grouchy, armed... No, you're right, you're nothing alike."

"I'm not grouchy," he muttered, then realized how it sounded. "All right," he said. "Well. I am his son." Changing the subject, he asked, "How is your sister, Your Highness? And don't insult my intelligence when you answer."

"No, I wouldn't do that," DG assured him. "Everything is hard for her, and I... don't really know what to do to help her."

"Give her time to get better," Jeb said. "People do, you know." He thought of his father, piecing himself back together so he could help the young princess on her journey.

"You've been kind," she said thoughtfully. "To Az, I mean. I think it helps."

"Well," he said, "I guess that makes us even."

* * *

Ahamo pulled his horse alongside Cain's as they came to the top of a small hill. Both men paused, scanning the land for signs of trouble. They'd placed patrols all around the palace, sending men riding so far as the northern border of the lake-filled region.

So far, the day had been quiet, and it seemed it would end that way; the sun was already low on the horizon.

"You should return to the palace," Ahamo said to Cain. "Be with your son, take some rest. Our night patrols will be here soon enough."

"I'd rather not leave my post, sir," the tin man replied.

But it was more than police training and loyalty that made him say it. Ahamo gave him a knowing look. "The air out here is easier to breathe, I'll grant you."

Cain looked startled, then ashamed, then almost angry. "How did you-"

"There was a war on the Other Side," Ahamo said mildly, "in which the enemy traveled through a network of tunnels- cramped, dark passages, stale air. Sometimes our soldiers spent weeks in them, in useless pursuit, and afterwards, well. It came and went, the way they'd feel confined indoors, in crowds…"

"So you brought me on patrol because you knew."

"And because no one knows more than you about this sort of work," Ahamo assured him. "I had a need of your trained opinion."

Cain was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Ahamo started to reply, but caught sight of movement along the horizon. "Riders," he said, tensely.

"I see them." Cain already had his pistol drawn. "What should we do?"

"Wait a moment…" Ahamo squinted at the far-off horsemen. One of them was carrying a standard of some kind. If the wind would catch it… There! He saw the banner splayed out, but it bore no insignia. It was merely a plain, purple cloth on a pole…

"I can fire a warning shot," Cain said lowly, "call in our other men."

"No, wait. They're not Longcoats. So who-" he broke off, suddenly understanding- "Lavender! On the standard! Lavender, not purple! Put down your weapon, Mr. Cain, our people have come!"

* * *

"Mother!" DG shouted as she raced down the corridor to the Queen's chambers. "Mother, come quick, there are people!"

Her mother flung open the doors, looking pale and shaken. "DG, what is it? Is it an attack?"

"No!" DG hugged her impulsively. "It's two of Jeb's messengers- they're here, and they brought people! Father and Mr. Cain are with them all, just outside."

Relief flooded her mother's features. "Our people! We must go out to them." She grabbed DG's hand and pulled her toward the second floor balcony. "They will all see us from here."

The crowd erupted into cheers when the two royals approached the rails. DG spotted Cain, who smiled and tipped his hat to her, but her focus was torn away by the clamor of the newcomers- not just men and boys, as had been called, but whole families. Refugees, she thought, feeling her heart pound. Their cheers grew louder, overlapping one another:

"Long live the Queen! Long live the House of Gale!"

"They destroyed our town! You must help us!"

"We'll fight for you, Your Majesty!"

"Death to the Longcoat butchers!"

"Gods bless the Queen! Gods bless Princess Dorothy!"

* * *

DG remained on the balcony long after everyone had been settled, and Wyatt smiled as he watched her gazing up at the stars. Jeb had been the one who'd helpfully pointed out that the balcony was less crowded than the hall, and he'f wondered just how obvious his discomfort in close quarters was: first the Queen's Consort, then his own son...

He exhaled slowly and stepped forward. "Nice night."

DG turned and smiled at him. "Cain! I thought you'd be busy having another, y'know, war council."

"Then I'm surprised you weren't ready to eavesdrop," he said dryly.

"But I thought I didn't have to," she answered, still smiling, "because it's my right to be there."

He swept her a bow. "Of course, Princess Dorothy."

After that, it seemed, she'd had enough of the teasing. She leaned against the railing, saying, "You know, that morning at the tower, when you told me, 'DG, you're a Princess,' I thought I'd realized what that really meant. But then we got here..." She looked back at him, then shook her head. "Seeing everything like this, and hearing everyone talk about restoring the House of Gale… It's so much, Cain."

"You won't have to do it alone," he answered, moving so that he was next to her.

"Won't I, though? Glitch is trying to be Ambrose, and Raw ends up hiding because there's too much feeling or something. And you…"

"Standing here," he said. "Aren't I?"

"Only for now. And if I'm Princess Dorothy, I can't be DG anymore, off to save the day with her friends. You're going to go without me."

Wyatt remembered how angry she'd been when he'd ridden off the rescue the caravan and left her behind. "Look, Princess," he said, "I can't tell you how this is all going to go. What I can tell you is that the best way through it is by focusing on one thing at a time, one day at a time. Today, I'm right here, and so are you. All right?"

DG didn't speak or move for a long while. Finally, she looked up and said, "Hug?"

He made a show of rolling his eyes and looking put-upon as he pulled her into his arms- because he was never going to admit to her that he liked being hugged. Eight annuals in the suit had left him feeling smothered in close quarters, but also starved for human contact. And he was glad, whatever moment DG decided was worthy of a hug.

"Cain?" she said.

"Yeah, kid?"

"You said you couldn't tell me how this is all going to go, but... You do know what's coming, don't you?

Wyat frowned, unsure why she needed to hear it from him. "Of course. We'll go to war."


	5. Gone for a Soldier

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Gone for a Soldier

Warnings: Angst... and Jeb Cain gets kicked around a bit...

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. The witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

A sharp blow to the head sent Jeb sprawling in the dirt, stars clouding his vision. He blindly scrambled to regain his footing, and barely got his arm up in time to block the punch that followed.

His attacker pressed forward, keeping him on the defensive. Jab, low kick, high kick- Jeb evaded each, but the assault kept coming.

Punch, punch, uppercut, circle kick- and again with greater force-

Jeb stumbled, slipped to one knee, and reluctantly held his hands up in surrender.

His attacker laughed. "Oh, cheer up and get up! You didn't do so badly that time!"

Jeb glared and got back on his feet. "I," he said, breathing heavily, "am never… sparring with you… again. How do you do that?"

Glitch beamed at him. "It's all about the soul! I keep telling you people that! Or- wait! You weren't there. Or, at least, I don't think you were, and I- oh." He cleared his throat and softened his tone of voice, "The rhythm comes from the soul. You, young Cain, apparently haven't got one."

Jeb chuckled darkly. "That doesn't surprise me." He rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders and extended his hand. "Well fought."

Glitch eyed the dirt-stained palm with distaste, then shrugged and shook hands. "I'll leave you to bellow your orders now. You know, your father is much quieter."

"Take after my mother," Jeb shot back, surprised by his own ease in saying it.

But thinking about that would have to wait.

He turned to the dozens of would-be soldiers who had crowded around to watch the sparring. "All right," he yelled, "I want two lines, and I want to see combat drills, and they had better be controlled! Any man who wants to master weaponry has to master his own self first! You hear?"

"Yes, sir!" They shouted, rushing to obey his command. They lacked nothing in eagerness, he thought, however much their combat experience left to be desired.

Jacob, his second, came across the lines, barking, "More force, all of you! You think the Longcoats will give a damn if your arms are tired? Come on!" In a lower voice, he added, "They are getting better, sir."

"Too slowly," Jeb answered, feeling the stress of it settle in his chest and stomach. It was bad enough knowing the fight would come for them long before they were ready, and worse knowing they'd ride out to look for it… "How many are we now?" he asked tiredly.

"Ten thousand, or thereabouts," Jacob said. "Maybe half that who are truly fit as soldiers... We might get another hundred or so, sir, if we took them an annual older and younger."

Jeb shook his head. "You know they're too young and too old already. The most some of those boys have fired a gun is hunting game in the woods. Even some the older men haven't been tested. Sat the damned war out the first time, and-" he stopped himself before his temper got away from him- "Doesn't matter. Fact is, too many of them aren't ready."

"We weren't either, once," Jacob pointed out.

"And we know how well it went first time we took up arms..." Jeb had a vivid memory of the moments just before the Longcoats rode up to his family's home and kicked in the door. He swiftly put it out of his mind.

Jacob didn't seem fazed. "Nothing for it, sir. At least the ones that came in yesterday had weapons to spare, what with having to protect their families getting here."

"Ammunition's still a problem," Jeb answered. "And those families are more mouths to feed. There's some livestock from the farm folk who came, and whatever we can get from the forest, but it's too late to get crops in those fields for winter..." He sighed and clapped the other man on the arm. "Enough of my complaining. See to the training rotations- I'll be back shortly."

* * *

DG played with the children while their fathers and brothers prepared for war, chasing them between the rows of tents in a raucous game of tag. "I'm going to get you!" she shouted gleefully, rounding a corner on their heels.

They squealed, and scattered, crying, "Watch out fow Pwincess Do-thy!"

She let them evade her for a while before tagging one of the boys who strayed too close. "And no tag-backs!" she told him, dodging as he immediately swiped a hand at her.

"Aw, no fair!" He pouted briefly, then hurried off after someone else.

Two of the girls ran to Cain for protection as he approached from the stables. He picked them up, one under each arm, and carried them away from the boy who was 'it.' DG smiled, imagining how he must have played with Jeb before the Witch took over, but then she remembered how much time that father and son had lost... All because she'd let go of Az's hand…

She forced down the guilty thought as Cain freed himself from the game and continued over to her side.

"You're pretty good with them," he said in greeting.

"There was a woman at the diner- the place where I worked on the Other Side- who had four kids," DG said. "She always said, no matter how hard their lives got, she wanted them to have the chance to be little... I think these kids should get to be little, too."

"Yes, they should," Cain agreed, and she caught the odd note of pain in his voice.

Glancing at him, she saw his eyes were fixed well beyond the game, out across the fields where his son was training men. Gently, she put a hand on his arm to draw him out of his thoughts. "Cain…"

He tensed- which she expected- but he didn't pull away. "It'll be better for these kids," he said. "They'll grow to see the end of this war."

"This war…" DG never could get used to how simply he said those words- like he was saying the sky was blue. "I didn't know there was so much waiting involved. Waiting, and dreading the next move, because there's nothing that can be done to stop it."

"Tends to be that way." Cain squinted at the horizon. "But it won't be long now. The army's got to move out before the Longcoats can advance to the south and secure even more towns as their strongholds."

DG knew that, of course- they all did- and answered with another fact that everyone was aware of: "My mother's appointing captains. Jeb's one, and his friend- Jacob? I think there are three or four others. She's still looking for more."

"Some to take men to into battle, some to defend Finaqua and continue to train recruits." Cain slipped his arm away from her grasp. "She's left it up to me, kid."

DG nodded, biting her lip to stop herself from speaking. She knew she could beg him to stay- could order it, even- but she couldn't compete with his sense of duty.

"I'd be of use here," he said, as if to reassure her that he was considering it. "Raw recruits need to learn what I could teach. But…"

DG put up her hand. "You don't need to explain it to me, Mr. Cain-" and since when was she back to mister with him?- "I understand."

Abruptly, one of the children barreled into her legs, shouting, "You're 'it' again, Pwincess Do-thy!"

"Go on, kid," Cain told her, low-voiced.

DG took a step forward, then inspiration struck her. She turned back and hit him in the arm. "Only if you come, too!"

* * *

The sunlight was warm on Azkadellia's skin as she stepped out from the palace. The feeling of it quelled the fear- the desire to run back to her room- that had been bubbling up all the while she'd descended the stairs.

She loved the sun- or, at least, she had loved it as a child... before the Witch had demanded darkness.

She meant to love it again- even if it meant facing the suspicious looks, the fearful whispers, the hasty retreats. Because she was not the Witch, and she had to prove it to them.

A peel of laughter drew her attention.

Her sister was playing with the refugee children, running from a yellow-haired girl of five or six annuals. The tin man was there, as well, and when the child changed course and came after him, he scooped her up, twirled her around, and proceeded with the game. And he was smiling.

"What a thing," Azkadellia murmured, wondering at the slip in his stoic front. Then she remembered that he had been a father- that he was Jeb's father- and the physical pain of guilt nearly doubled her over.

She'd taken his family- the Witch had taken his family.

The Witch knew that was the cruelest thing to do. And the Witch knew it because she knew it- because she'd raged at the Witch with every bit of control that was still hers whenever she'd seen her imprisoned mother, or thought of her lost sister.

She couldn't keep watching. She turned away from the game, gathered up her skirts, and ran blindly down the sloping path towards the lake. She collapsed at the water's edge, breathing heavily, half-sobbing.

"You shouldn't be out here alone."

She spun around, startled, and found a man watching her- one of Jeb's men. "I-it's all right," she insisted. "That is, I am all right. You need not stay."

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he repeated, and she realized there was something not right in his eyes. "But I knew you would be. Knew it would choke you, being around your enemies, pretending you were one of us…"

"No." Azkadellia's hands flew to her chest as her heart thudded against her ribcage. "No. That's not right."

"You don't fool me, Sorceress," the man said. He raised his arm- he had a knife, oh gods, he had a knife!

She scrambled back, felt the water slosh against her feet, and knew she was trapped. "Please," she whimpered. "Please, I'm not- I'm not her."

"It won't work, Sorceress. You drew in my father, corrupted him, made him go mad-" his grip on the knife tightened, his knuckles went white- "He killed his own sons, my brothers- had them hung in Central City as traitors, at your orders!"

"No!" Azkadellia shrieked, and he leaped at her. She fell beneath his weight, kicking to get away, but he was too strong. "Help me!" She cried out. "Someone help me!"

He backhanded her across the jaw, snarling, "Shut up, bitch!"

The pain left her gasping and dizzy. He pressed his body down on hers and she couldn't breathe, couldn't move. She saw him raise the knife, braced herself for the killing blow-

"Elias, stop!"

Jeb Cain barreled into her attacker and threw him to the ground, and she scrambled to get away from him. Elias lunged at his own captain, then, enraged by the interference. Jeb caught his arm as he swung, and brought it down, hard, against his own leg. The knife fell from his deadened fingers, but he slammed a knee up into Jeb's stomach.

Azkadellia heard the breath fly out of Jeb's body, and cried out when Elias got his hands around Jeb's throat. She tried to summon up her magic- she had to do it, she had to- but she couldn't. Couldn't forget the Witch drawing it from her, making it dark. Couldn't risk it, couldn't-

"Sir, don't make me do this!" Elias shouted, sounding desperate. "She's wicked! She's bewitched you!"

"Not… how it is," Jeb growled, struggling against the other man's grip.

Sobbing, Azkadellia threw her hands up, trying again to use her magic.

A gunshot ripped past her.

Elias crumpled, blood pouring out beneath his body.

Azkadellia whirled around and saw Jeb's father on the hillside. He brought his pistol down slowly, and- gods- she saw his hand was shaking.

There was a crowd behind him, a mass of grim and horrified faces, and she saw her family push their way through it. They ran to her, DG first, and pulled her into a protective embrace.

"Oh, my daughter," her mother breathed, cupping her bruised cheek with a gentle hand. "I am so sorry this has happened."

"It isn't your fault, Mother," she answered, trying to smile- but it hurt when she tried. She turned to look at Jeb, saw him climbing unsteadily to his feet, one hand rubbing at his throat.

He looked from the dead body at his feet to the shock-silent crowd, and drew a deep breath. "Is there anyone else!" He shouted hoarsely. "I said, is there anyone else!"

No one moved.

Azkadellia wanted to reach out to him, to thank him, but he walked away.

* * *

Lavender stood before her throne- she refused to sit upon it until the war was won- and forced her body not to tremble as the adrenaline, the fear at seeing her daughter attacked, slowly dissipated within her. Ahamo had taken Azkadellia to her chamber, carried in his arms as if she was still a child, and Lavender wanted nothing more than to go to them...

But she was needed as Queen.

She looked at her youngest daughter, who'd insisted on accompanying her, and said, "My angel, you need not be hindered by these duties as I am."

"You told me once that a princess should serve her people," DG answered. "And, besides, if I go, you'll be alone here. I'd rather stay"

Lavender smiled gratefully. "As you wish, then."

The doors opened, and she expected to see Jeb Cain with an apology at the ready, but instead she faced another battle-weary young man- his second, Jacob Tiery, who bowed low in respect.

"Your Majesty," he said, "and Your Highness. Captain Cain asked me to give the report in his stead, if you'll permit it."

"Rise and approach," Lavender bid him, knowing Jeb would not pass off his duties lightly. She couldn't fault him for wanting to do so in this instance.

Jacob spoke in his place with commendable control, "Our men buried the traitor, Elias Dale, and I saw to it they were given good counsel afterwards. Morale is low, but…" He trailed off. "Forgive us, Your Majesty, for not seeing the threat in him sooner. We knew he had bad blood."

"Bad blood?" DG echoed.

Jacob acknowledged her with a nod. "His father was a Longcoat general, Your Highness, though a more accurate term would be 'butcher.' His first act in the service of the Sorceress was to murder his own wife and most of his children. Elias swore his mind was not his own, but who can say now."

Lavender saw her daughter pale at that explanation. To Jacob, she said, "You could not have known the danger this man would bring. He was your loyal comrade in arms for many annuals. Go now, make sure your men- and your captain- know that I understand this."

"Thank You, Your Majesty." Jacob bowed and headed for the door.

As he exited, the Viewer, Raw, reluctantly entered. He moved slowly, keeping his arms curled about himself as he made his way toward the throne.

"Viewer," Lavender said with kindness. "You need not approach in fear, whatever you came for."

"Raw has much fear," was the apologetic answer. "Raw tries to be brave, but… Much fear. Much time spent in hiding… Should have protected Azkadellia."

"Oh, Raw!" DG stepped down off the dais to embrace her friend. "It's not your fault that this happened. You don't need to be sorry for it!"

He gently pushed her away. "But Raw is sorry." Hesitantly, he brought his gaze up to Lavender's again. "Raw can make sure it does not happen again… Can find the anger."

It was so tempting to accept the offer; as a mother, she wanted to protect her family more than anything. But she was the Queen, and it always came first. "No," she said. "I will not have any of our people condemned for that which they feel in their hearts, nor would I use you as the Witch used your kind to weed out her enemies."

The Viewer looked relieved. "Raw is glad. But wanted you to know… Raw would."

Lavender nodded. "Thank you." She watched him leave, then extended her hands as her daughter took up her place again.

DG hesitantly laced their fingers together. "You're a good queen, Mother."

"I am only what I am- and with the hope it is enough," she said. Because she hadn't been a good queen- she'd been dethroned, unable to defend her people- and while she breathed she would atone for it.

The door opened again, and mother and daughter both turned. Lavender was surprised to see Wyatt Cain, unarmed and pale, striding towards them. She saw his eyes go to her daughter, saw the flash of regret.

"Cain," DG began, "what are you-"

He ignored her. "Your Majesty, are you still planning to launch your offensive in three days' time?"

Lavender blinked, caught off guard by the question- and she marveled at how, in her worry over Azkadellia, she had forgotten an entire war. "I am," she said. "We can spare no more time than that."

Cain looked as though he'd thought as much. "Your Majesty, you offered me command of the palace defense, he said, "but I can't accept it. I'm asking for a battle posting."

Lavender heard her daughter's small gasp. "You are certain?" she said. "You are a tin man by training, not a soldier, Mr. Cain."

"Either way means I can fire a gun, Your Majesty-" Cain was looking at DG, even though she refused to look back at him- "and I can captain a company on the line well as any other man you've chosen."

"I have never thought otherwise," Lavender answered, examining his face for any clue as to his motives. "Though you would be an asset to us here, as well, you understand."

"I won't let my son march off to a battle I chose to stay away from, Your Majesty."

And there it was.

Lavender nodded, understanding- and she noted how DG's shoulders slumped in resignation as she beckoned him forward. "Then make your oath, Wyatt Cain, as a captain of the Queen's Army."


	6. Candles In the Window

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Candles In the Window

Warnings: A lot of angst. A bit of language.

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. The witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. The Queen's Army rides out.

* * *

On the day before the war, as DG had come to think of it, there was no game of tag.

The children had been calling up to her window throughout the morning, begging for her to come out, but all she wanted to do was put on flannel pajamas, crawl into bed, and cry until her face got blotchy… Except she had no pajamas, her bed was a blanket on the floor, and no one else was crying.

She hadn't understood why it was like that, at first, because in the war movies her dad- the robot- had liked to watch there had always been gallons of tears. But, then, she'd figured they'd gotten that wrong- like they'd gotten battlefields wrong, and princesses wrong- so she'd gotten dressed, combed her hair, and nibbled on the bread that had been left for her. By the time that was done, the children were caught up in the serious business that was going on around them, and no longer shouted her name or asked for her to come outside.

She watched them from her window. The boys followed their fathers and older brothers like shadows, and the girls clung to their mothers while they tended to… whatever it was they were doing. It looked like they were hanging ribbons- torn strips of cloth, really- on tent poles and sapling trees, and she swore that she could hear them singing. The words were half-familiar, and felt like hearing 'God Bless America' on Memorial Day, but she couldn't grasp them.

"DG?" That was her mother, at the doorway- and her father, too, she noted. "What are you looking at, my angel?"

"The people," she grumbled. "They're singing and decorating, acting like it's a celebration- like they're glad there's about to be a war."

"In a sense, they are glad," her mother replied, "because the war will be waged for their sakes. But-" she glided over to the window and peered down at the work below- "what you see is not an act of joy. The torn cloth symbolizes the family that is parting, and the hope that it will one day be mended. And the song they sing is a prayer to the gods for the safety of all who are leaving."

"Oh." DG felt stupid for her anger. "I didn't know."

"Perhaps you will walk among them with me, and learn of these things," her father suggested. "Our people would certainly be grateful for your presence."

Considering the war was being fought in her family's name, she doubted it. "Where will you be?" DG asked her mother.

"In the throne room, blessing the soldiers," she said, "along with your sister, as is tradition."

"Has Az agreed to this?"

Her sister had all but been in hiding since she'd gotten attacked, and even before then had been skittish around their people.

"It's her rightful place," her father said. "Your mother and I thought it best she assume it. A soldier unwilling to be blessed in her presence is one we do not need, however short on men we are."

"You still shouldn't force her."

"And so we have not," her mother soothed. "Your sister is determined to do the duty she knows is hers, however reluctantly."

"Duty," DG repeated, thinking that she really hated the word. Duty was putting Az in a position that would scare her, duty was sending Cain to war, and duty was keeping her from following him to it.

Gently, her father said, "We must do what is needed for our people. Will you join me in greeting them?"

"All right," she said. "Yeah. I can do that."

"You'll need to change- put on your nicer dress," her mother told her. "You must never send men to war in sadness, but with gratitude- and with all your hopes for the future."

DG thought of high school, and Karen, who had borrowed a senior's prom gown and driven to her boyfriend's base in Texas to dance with him before he got sent off to the war.

She hadn't understood then.

She'd never thought she would have to.

"Okay," she said, turning from the window. "Just give me a moment."

* * *

Jeb handed Jacob the rifle he'd just finished inspecting and dragged his sleeve across his eyes. They were gritty and sore from a bad night's sleep- and, really, he couldn't remember the last day when he hadn't felt tired.

"You look like hell," Jacob told him, even though he didn't look much better.

They'd both felt the strain of preparing for the war- a damned open war- that they were too much responsible for winning. Then the Crown Princess had been attacked, and they'd had to keep eyes on the men who'd been close to Elias- and calm the ones who thought it was a bad omen when one of their own died a traitor's death just days before their march out to battle.

"Morale is still an issue," Jacob said, as if reading Jeb's thoughts- which figured given how long they'd fought together. "But there's bluster enough today, sir."

"Let's hope it lasts," Jeb said, getting to his feet. "I guess we ought to see the Queen. It'll help the men to know we've had her blessing." He made a small effort to brush the dust off his clothes and tuck his shirt in- his father's influence, he supposed, since he'd never much cared about propriety.

And where was his father anyway? If he was going to be a captain, he should have been out with his men, and-

Jeb cut off the thought before it could darken his mood further. "Come on," he said to Jacob.

"Do you mind if we walk up through the tents, sir? I ought to check on my sister."

Jacob's sister, Cecily, had arrived in Finaqua with one of the last waves of refugees. Jeb knew, having witnessed their reunion, that Jacob hadn't expected to see her alive- and that leaving her so soon after she'd found him was tearing at him badly.

She'd been given space in a tent with an elderly couple who'd lost their own children. The two men found her outside, hanging ribbons like so many of the other women. Jacob called her name and held his arms open as she came towards him.

For a brief, half-guilty moment, Jeb pictured his mother embracing him with the same quiet resignation in her eyes… and he was glad she hadn't lived to suffer it.

"Captain Cain," Cecily said when Jacob released her. "A good day to you, sir. Have you come to check on me as well?"

"Jeb," he corrected. "And I figure you can take care of yourself."

"Tell that to this one, then," she laughed, swatting at her brother. "Truly, Jacob, you worry too much. This isn't one of the old stories where we women fall down in despair simply because you must go."

"So I see." Jacob leaned down and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "But I will still return before the sundown meal. For now, the Queen expects us."

"Go well." Cecily glanced at Jeb to let him know she included him in her wish, then returned her gaze to her brother's retreating form.

Jeb squeezed her arm and jogged back to the path. Jacob hardly even looked up as they fell into step again, and Jeb- who had no kin to part with- didn't think he had the right to break the silence.

A shout across the field did it for him: "Jeb! Jeb Cain! Wait up!"

"Princess Dorothy," Jacob said, surprised. "What's she doing out here?"

"Holding court, by the looks of it," Jeb said, observing the children who were clinging to DG's hands and clothes as she walked. He nodded to the Consort, who was following at a slower pace, then greeted the Princess, "Good day, Your Highness. If you're looking for my father, we've not seen him since sun up."

"Oh, he's running men through drills down by the lake," she answered, "and, anyway, it's you I need. These children here wanted to meet the man who's leading their daddies."

"That so?" Jeb got down on one knee so he was eye-level with them. "And what do you want to see me for?"

They looked at each other shyly, then one of the girls spoke, "We… we wanted you to promise to bring papa- mine, and theirs, too- back after the fighting."

Jeb wondered how the dozen or so annuals he had on these kids suddenly made him feel centuries older. "The thing is," he began, "I can't promise to bring anyone back. But-" he looked each child in the eyes so they'd know he was serious- "how about I promise to try?"

They exchanged glances again, some of them tearful, and the girl who'd spoken nodded. To his surprise, she ran forward as he stood up, and hugged his legs. It was DG who gently pulled her away, mouthing, "thank you."

Consort Ahamo waited till his daughter had led the children away, then said, "That was well done, Captain. No doubt the fathers under your command will appreciate it."

Jeb shrugged off the praise. "I hope that's so, Your Majesty."

"I think your own father would appreciate your presence before this night comes." The Consort's tone was mild, but it was clear it was not a suggestion. He waited for Jeb to nod his acquiesence before heading after DG.

"He's right, sir," Jacob said. "You should see him."

Jeb sighed. "I know."

* * *

Azkadellia had given up standing hours ago, and sat on the dais, gripping the edges so tightly her knuckles were white. Soldier after soldier came through, bowing to her mother, and then looking over at her with all manner of emotions- fear, anger, doubt, curiosity, gratitude, amusement. She wanted to scream at all of them to go away.

She squeezed her eyes shut as another pair- no, two pairs- of booted footsteps echoed throughout the throne room. When she opened them she saw Jeb Cain in the process of bowing to her mother. His second mimicked the action, though he kept his wary eyes on her the whole time.

She stood, ignoring how the motion made him tense, and instead, she greeted Jeb with a weak smile. "Captain."

"Princess," he replied, eying the bruises she knew hadn't faded from her face.

"I don't look like-" she began, then stopped, because it wouldn't do for her mother and this other captain to hear her say the bruises made her look less like the Witch.

"You'll look like yourself again soon," Jeb said, and she couldn't tell if he understood what she'd been meaning to say or not.

Then her mother spoke, "Captain Cain, Captain Tiery. Kneel, please." Obediently, each man went to one knee and she continued, "May the Power that guards life and light guard you in your just defense of our House and our realm. Rise, proudly, and go in strength."

That, Azkadellia knew, was the point at which they were supposed to leave but Jeb hesitated and looked at her. "You look like you could use some air, Your Highness."

She opened her mouth to agree, stopped, and looked imploringly at her mother.

"Go on," the Queen said, smiling. "They are the last to be blessed."

Azkadellia gladly fell into step beside Jeb as they left the stifling room. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you for saying something."

"You could've said it yourself," Jeb answered.

She shook her head. She'd had to stay- she, Azkadellia, the Crown Princess- to prove who she was. Herself. Not the Witch.

"Okay," Jeb said, evidently deciding not to argue. "We saw your father and your sister outside a bit ago. Want to find them?"

"I would," Az said. She knew she'd not spent enough time with DG, but she wanted to change that. Big sisters were supposed to help the hurts, and she could do that, too, because she was herself now.

The other captain spoke abruptly, "I'll leave you, sir." Then he looked at her, hesitated, and quickly bowed. "Your Highness."

Azkadellia watched his retreating figure, all tense muscles and clenched hands, and ached because he still saw the Witch when he looked at her. "What did she do to him?" she asked in a whisper.

"Jacob had four sisters. He only has one now."

She couldn't make up for what had been done to him. She couldn't make up for what had been done to Jeb either, and the words she'd kept to herself since the moment after she'd picked up a shovel to help him dig graves came tumbling out: "Why have you been kind to me?"

Jeb stared at her, as if wondering whether she was mad- and it wasn't the first time he'd done it, and she thought it might be true, so she didn't mind. Then, he shrugged.

"I've given you no reason," she pointed out. In fact, she'd endangered his life- more than once.

"Given me no reason to be unkind, either," he said. "And I am sworn to your service, Azkadellia. You're the Crown Princess."

She blinked, finding the words, however factual, unexpected- as was his welcome use of her given name. "You are kind to… your future Queen?" The words stuck to her mouth like glue and she had to force them out. "You are certain that is who I am?"

"Don't you think you owe it?" He asked without accusation.

She did. She did owe it, which was why she'd taken her place at her mother's side all day, but it didn't make a difference. "The people will never accept me. You saw it in your own man, the one who tried to kill me. And in that captain, Jacob, who sees her when he looks at me. I can't ever make him see me. None of them can see me."

"Melodramatic," Jeb said, and she almost felt indignant. "And I meant you owe it to yourself."

She stared at him for a long while. "You had better win this war then," she said at last.

He smiled, hard and mirthless. "Yes, Your Highness. I think so, too."

* * *

Wyatt stood in the center of his small room, his mind all too full of memories from his past life- Jeb tripping along behind him as he gathered his gear, Adora nagging at him to remember this or grab another of that.

He glanced down at his wedding band, turning his hand slightly so the gold caught the light. Taking it off had always been a part of his routine before he rode out on assignment. Adora had demanded it- said she wouldn't have him thinking of his duties as a husband when he needed to be thinking about his duty to the law.

It made his breath catch, remembering that he wasn't bound as either anymore, but to the service of the Queen at war. Slowly, he removed the simple ring from his finger, and placed it on the window sill.

"So you really are going." That was Jeb, from behind him- and damn his ability to sneak up on a man like that.

Wyatt moved the hand that had instinctively gone towards his gun and took a deep breath. His son's tone was surprisingly neutral, given what a sore point his captaincy was between them, but the look on Jeb's face indicated a fight coming.

Again.

"I swore an oath before the Queen," Wyatt reminded him. "That's not a thing I can just go back on." And, even though they'd been over it before, he added, "There are men- mostly yours- capable of defending the palace, and a lot of them can train others better than I can. So I'll put my gun where it's needed."

"I don't need you looking out for me," Jeb warned.

You did once, Wyatt wanted to say, but instead he answered, "I'll watch your back, you'll watch mine- same as all men at arms."

But the boy still didn't look satisfied. "And I'm not calling you 'sir.'"

Wyatt fought the urge to smirk. "You're the ranking captain, son-" the leaders of the Queen's army each controlled different companies, but in joint actions would defer to whomever had taken the oath to serve first- "but I'm not calling you 'sir,' either."

That drew a short laugh out of Jeb. He shook his head, temper fading. "Captains Cain," he said ruefully. "This will be confusing." Then, perhaps as a peace offering, he added, "Come downstairs. Everyone's gathering for the sundown meal."

And, in his mind, Wyatt heard his boy's reedy, five-annual-old voice declaring that someday he'd be big enough to fight the bad men, too, and they'd ride out together.

Jeb frowned, bemused by his silence. "Father?"

He shook off the memory. "Yeah, son… Let's go."

* * *

The last meal was a somber thing. They were all together, everyone in the camp, with the royal family seated on the palace steps. DG felt the tight hold of her sister's hand, the arm her father had around her, and thought she'd fall to pieces if it weren't for that.

It was like that for the others, too. Families huddled close; there wasn't a child in the room not being held by a father- even Jeb, she realized, seeing Cain's hand on the young man's shoulder. They sat apart from the others, off to one side, and how she wished she could run to them!

"We shall begin," her mother announced, her voice silencing the entire crowd. She rose gracefully to make a toast, albeit with a simple mug of water. "To our home," she said.

"To our Queen," the men said in return.

They drank, and the meal began. DG supposed it should have been grander, but supplies were rationed so they wouldn't starve later. There was a bit of game, some bread, and a potato for each of them- and she only ate because she knew it would be wrong to waste.

"You're quiet, Deeg," Azkadellia said between sips of water.

"Thinking," she replied.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

At first, DG thought her sister was making a joke, and was shocked, but she realized Az was serious. And, actually, thinking about the war did hurt.

"You care for him," Az went on, looking at Cain.

DG nodded. Of course she cared for Cain; he was one of her first friends, her protector, her savior- the constant in the short months since her return. And she knew what it had taken for him to keep going before he'd found Jeb- when he'd thought all his life was gone.

She was trying to earn it- by being strong, by doing her duty, even if it still felt like too much.

Az squeezed her hand. "At least you do not stand alone."

DG followed her sister's gaze and saw Raw and Glitch coming towards her. They bowed to the Queen and Consort first, then faced her with some hesitance.

"Hey, Doll," Glitch said, and he sounded a little sheepish.

"Hi, Ambrose." She mustered a smile. "Hi, Raw."

"You don't have to call me that," Glitch said. "Having two names is confusing, you know, and I've gotten used to the nickname. Since I didn't remember the real one. Which brings me to the subject of not remembering."

"You lost me," DG told him bemusedly.

Raw intervened, grasping her arm. "DG need friends."

"Which is what we've been forgetting," Glitch finished. "I was going to explain it to her, Fluffy."

DG laughed at the scowl Raw gave him. "You guys, you're the best friends I have," she said truthfully.

"But we should have been trying more," Glitch said mournfully. "I told you I was more of a coward before I lost my marbles, Doll. I guess I remembered how to be that way, along with everything else."

DG got up and flung an arm around each of them. "What matters is that you're here now," she said. "Thank you, both of you."

"We'll go with you, if you want us to, to say good-bye to Cain," Glitch offered.

She realized the meal was winding down, and that there wasn't a family present that wasn't slowly parting. "You go first," she said. "I need a moment."

"This must be done," she heard her father tell her mother softly, and she wondered who he was trying to convince.

She looked toward Cain again, watching as he shook hands with Glitch and Raw, saying something- probably telling them to stay out of trouble while he was away. Then he shifted his gaze, met her eyes, and she saw him sigh. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she got up and ran to him, heedless of the crowd.

He grabbed her before they could collide, and drew her to him gently. "DG," he said into her hair, and nothing more. He couldn't ask her not to cry- she wasn't; he couldn't tell her it would be all right- he didn't know that. She thought of Jeb, speaking to the children earlier, refusing to make promises, and knew she'd get none from his father.

"You know I'll fight," was all he said.

She held her breath as he trailed his hands down her arms, until he reached her fingers and laced them with his own. She knew she should say something- that she'd miss him, that she'd write to him, something. But all she could do was hold his gaze.

She got the sense that whatever she could say he already knew.

A horse's whinny shattered the moment.

"I have to go," he said. "Prin-"

"No," she cut him off.

But he finished anyway. "Princess. DG." And he brought the hands he was holding to his lips, and kissed her knuckles.

Her fingers trembled as he released them. She watched him walk away- no cliché look back, of course- and was staggered by the suddenness.

She felt a tug at her hand, heard Azkadellia saying, "DG, come with me. We have to go inside now."

"Why?" DG asked, her eyes still on the soldiers as they assembled.

"Just come!"

* * *

Wyatt made sure the men in his company were accounted for before moving his horse to the front of their formation. His lieutenants were also on horseback, riding alongside columns of men to keep them in line. The sun was almost gone, the sky a deep gray, as they marched away from the palace.

Jeb pulled up beside him as they approached the trail that would lead them out of Finaqua. The look of steel resolve on his son's face made Wyatt as proud as it pained him to see it. The boy was a warrior. Of that there could be no question.

"We're going to do this," he said.

"We are," Wyatt agreed.

He pointed back toward the palace. "Thought you'd want to take a look at your farewell first."

Wyatt looked. The grounds were dotted with lights, candles lit to mark the way home for the soldiers who were leaving; he brought his gaze upward, and caught sight of a flickering glow in the palace's turret windows. He smiled as a second light, this one steady- magically steady - appeared beside the first. "I think the original was meant for you," he said.

"Well…" Jeb didn't finish whatever thought he was having, his eyes fixed on the tiny glow. Then, abruptly, he straightened and shouted, "All companies… forward!"

Wyatt wheeled his horse about, toward the north, toward the enemy, holding in his mind the image of the two glowing candles that would lead him and his boy home.

* * *

A/N: For all of us who have to stand and wait on the homefront...


	7. Breaking and Binding

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Breaking and Binding

Warnings: Uh.. war.

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. Life on the home front and in the field isn't what anyone expects.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this fic. You are all awesome! You stick with this story even when life and my dysfunctional laptop thwart my plans to write it; I hope you continue to do so. It's great hearing from you!

* * *

DG watched the people from her window and wished she had her sketchbook- or even just a pencil and some scrap paper. The scene outside was so hopeful that she wanted to give it permanence. A group of men were using poles to raise a new section of the wall they were putting around their makeshift town. And she knew, though the defenses had to be finished first, that they were already planning cabins to replace the tent dwellings, a school for the children, supply houses for their first harvest of crops.

She'd spent enough of her life on a farm to know those crops had been sewn worryingly late, and she had a feeling most of the Ozians knew it, too, but nobody said so- or suggested that the Longcoats would defeat the Queen's Army and attack before any building could be completed. Two weeks had gone by since the march out, and there had been no news; DG didn't know if that was good or not, but it definitely wasn't good for her, not knowing what was happening to their army.

No, she corrected herself, it wasn't good for her not knowing what was happening to Cain.

She looked at the construction efforts again. The men were struggling to anchor the new part of the wall in the two-foot deep trench they'd dug; the logs they'd lashed together wobbled unsteadily. She took a deep breath and focused on the power she had within her, feeling it build up. She pointed at the pile of dirt the men had dug and flicked her finger, forcing the dirt to fill the trench. The men backed up, astonished, and the new section of the wall held.

DG waved from the window, grinning when they shouted their thanks and praise. Three cheers for her, she'd done something useful. "Find me when the next part's ready!" she shouted. She turned and saw her sister in the doorway- and caught the look of raw pain before Az could hide it. "Hey. Are you all right?"

Azkadellia nodded. "You shouldn't expend your magic needlessly. We're not children anymore."

"Why? Is it going to run out? DG asked, teasing, but the somber look her sister gave her ruined the fun. "Okay… it is going to run out?"

"Look at our mother."

"Well, yeah…" DG bit her lip, thinking. "But that was huge magic, the kind that brought me, y'know, back. This is simple, and it isn't like I'm wasting it. They needed help."

"Yes, of course." Azkadellia cast her eyes down. "I didn't mean to question that."

DG got the sense her sister was somehow disappointed in her. "Az, I have to do something useful around here. I feel like I'm going crazy."

"You aren't."

"I know, but…" DG shook her head. "You and Mother are busy most of the day, figuring out more things than I ever thought needed figuring out, and I'm just in the way. But this is something I can do."

"You could help Mother and I," Az said. "Your input would be valued."

"If I had any! There's still so much I can't remember- it's like I'm as bad as Glitch!" DG saw her sister flinch, and instantly regretted what she'd said, but plowed on, "What I do know is that none of my princess lessons were about ruling the country. There's the heir and the spare- and I'm the spare. So what am I supposed to be doing?"

* * *

Jeb swore as another bullet flew over his head. He hurriedly reloaded his rifle, then popped up from behind the fallen tree that was his cover. One shot, one kill, and then he dropped back down. Beside him, one of his men was on the ground, hands pressed over his stomach, watching with wild eyes as blood leaked out between his fingers.

Nothing to be done about it. No time.

"Come on!" he shouted as he came up for another shot. "Don't let these bastards take us!"

The Longcoats shouldn't have even been there. They were too far south. His men had been ambushed.

He tried to see how far his lines reached, but with the smoke, and the clutter of men, it was impossible.

More bullets flew by.

He ducked down again. The young man next to him no longer moved. They'd bury him later.

A Longcoat breached the lines, then another, and a third.

Jeb took a shot, point blank, at the man who came toward him, but the his army was still being pushed back- he was still being pushed back.

"Keep it coming! Damn it, keep firing!"

He backpedaled as his position was overrun, using his rifle like a club to ward off his attackers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jacob stumble, but he had no time to think on it.

"Jeb!" That was his father, somewhere behind. "Fall back! Hurry!"

Jeb ran, twisting about to take aim as he went, trying to account for everyone around him, and-

The world around him exploded.

There were four blasts in rapid succession, a cacaphony of shrieking, and he was thrown hard to the ground. He lay there, trying to catch his breath, while the ringing in his ears gave way to the cheering of his men. His father came to stand over him, looking vaguely worried.

"Need a hand up, son?"

Jeb shook his head and got to his feet on his own power, fighting the dizziness that threatened to keep him down. Around him, his men were similarly shaking off their injuries. Many were shaking hands with Liese, the dark-skinned soldier who was in charge of demolitions- and who'd undoubtedly just assured their victory. "That shouldn't have happened," he said aloud.

"Your when know their work when it comes to making things blow up," his father said, misunderstanding.

"There shouldn't have been Longcoats to stop," Jeb answered. "Any guess why they're so far south?"

"They can't have organized to take Finaqua in so little time," his father replied, eying his hands- he'd taken the skin off his knuckles during the battle. "And if they had, we'd have run up against a larger force."

Jeb nodded. "I figure that, too. So, most likely, this was just a patrol, and their sphere of influence is further south than we thought. We'll need to address this when we've found shelter. Pass the word to the other captains."

"You meaning to go to your old friends now?"

"If the smoke's still blue." Jeb clapped his father on the shoulder and started to give his orders.

* * *

Ahamo carefully lifted a thick volume of Ozian history from a pile of debris, mindful of the fragile binding. Reconstructing the palace library had become something of a personal project for him when his duties and his family didn't require his attention. The ruined room, once home to the O.Z.'s greatest collection of writings, had called to him, and he'd spent much of his time sifting through the rubble for anything he could save.

He sighed when he came across the remains of an old paperback, fully torn in two. "Ah, Hemingway, what a fate," he said aloud. He'd had just a couple of books in his pack, along with his pencils and sketchbook, when he'd slipped over from the Other Side, and so far he'd found none of them intact.

He heard the door open, but didn't look up until he heard Azkadellia's hesitant, "Father."

"You've found my sanctuary," he told her, beckoning for her to sit beside him. "Perhaps you'd like to rediscover it."

"Knowing a war is being waged drives us to create, to build," she answered, speaking slowly, as if she was uncertain her words were correct.

"Indeed," Ahamo agreed. "It gives us all hope, I think, to make something that will be there when the fighting is done."

"DG was using her magic to do that. She used it to help the men outside build the wall, that is. I did not want to do the same."

The confession did not come as a surprise. Azkadellia's magic had been sorely used, and Ahamo assumed she would be reluctant with it for some time. "This work takes no such power," he said, "and I would welcome your company."

And how wonderful it was to see her smile. "We spent much time here when I was a child," she said softly.

"We did," Ahamo said. "You had such difficult pulling your nose out of a book once you opened it."

"Tutor was angry because I'd miss my lessons."

Ahamo spared a moment to hope the old shapeshifter, though he'd vanished after the Tower, had gone to ground safely. "I would make your excuses for you each time, I recall. I got quite inventive."

"You were to blame," Azkadellia replied- and was that a bit of teasing? "You were the one who taught me to read."

"Because I could deny you nothing." Ahamo leaned forward and kissed her nose. "So we read through my novels, and your great-grandmother's, and all the texts of our House-"

"And then you taught me to read the ancient picture language, as Mother had taught you- that I would honor the old as well as the new." She reached out and lifted a heavy tome from the rubble, running reverent fingers over the cover. "The history of the Ozian monarchy," she murmured. "The Witch did not destroy it."

"Had she done so, she could still not have blotted out what is true," Ahamo responded, carefully opening the book to the first page. The geneology of the Royal Houses was written there, and he watched his daughter's eyes shimmer with tears as she read her name and then her sister's.

"The old and the new," she murmured. "DG was named for great-grandmother and our House."

"But you were named in the language of the ancients," Ahamo said. "And what does your name mean, my daughter?"

"'See, we are blessed,'" she whispered.

Ahamo put his hands on her shoulders. "And so we are. Blessed by you, now as then."

He saw her hands tighten on the book. "May I take this, Father? I've thought of something I must do." And before he could answer, she got up and was gone.

* * *

Wyatt grimaced as Lorraine cleaned and stitched the jagged cuts on his hands. "You wanted to kill me last time I was here, too, woman."

Lorraine snorted. "It's a needle and a bit of thread, which is a far cry from a bullet to your head." She glanced at Jeb, seated across the table, chin on his chest and eyes half-shut. "And your boy needs to stay awake." She kicked his chair roughly.

Jeb jerked his head up, blinking. "All right! I'm awake." He scrubbed at his eyes. "Gods know why…"

"Man with a concussion shouldn't sleep till the danger's passed," Lorraine chided him, and Wyatt had to cover his smile at the way she managed his boy. "Besides, thought you were going to be noble and stay the night in the woods with your men, seeing's how our little camp can hardly shelter them all."

"My body and I aren't on speaking terms since that attack," Jeb grumbled around a yawn. "Ralph, your wife is a tyrant."

"One of the reasons I love her," Lorraine's husband replied.

Lorraine batted him away from the stove and eyed the pot of stew she was cooking. "Such sass. And, young Cain, didn't you say you had some writing to do?"

Wyatt glanced at his son. "You're sending a report to the Queen?"

Jeb nodded. "Was supposed to do it after we finished the border outposts, but then that patrol caught us. She'll need to know, she and the Consort."

Lorraine left the stove and opened a drawer, then pulled out a few scraps of paper. "You'll need to write it fast if you want a rider sent out under cover of darkness. And fastest rider you can spare's my girl Ella, so-"

"What?" Jeb shook his head. "Lorraine, no, I won't send her to-"

Ralph interrupted, "She's already getting her horse ready- he's hidden up in the woods a ways. She's the one who asked us to send her, once she heard what you had to say about this army you're leading. She's able, too, as any you've got."

Wyatt watched the range of emotions that passed through his son's eyes, ending with resignation. Lorraine had been right; they couldn't spare one of the men, even one of the boys, when they had so much ground to cover still.

"All right," Jeb said, and bent his head over the paper to write.

Ralph took a scrap and a bit of coal and set it before Wyatt. "If you want to include a note to that girl- princess, that is. Spirited, she was."

The thought of writing to DG hadn't really occurred to him. He didn't know what he would tell her. But he picked up the coal and held it over the paper all the same.

_Princess_, he wrote at last, _I'm still fighting._

* * *

Azkadellia was walking through the halls, clutching the book she'd taken from the library, when her sister found her.

"Az! I was just looking for you. Mother says-"

Azkadellia thrust the book into DG's hands. "I have this for you." She watched her sister slowly turn the pages. "It's our history," she said, feeling the need to explain. "I thought you should read it, and know it, and then you'd figure out what to do. It has things on second daughters, you know."

DG nodded slowly, looking dubious. "Right. I'll read it." But she put the book aside instead. "Can't hurt, I guess."

"It will help," Az insisted. Because she needed to help something. "You should start it now, actually."

"Yeah, but there's someone here to see us," DG answered. "Mother sent me to find you so we could all meet her together. I heard the guards say she's a… 'lady of station.'"

Azkadellia felt a jolt of surprise. "There is a noblewoman here? But how? The Witch. She killed- I saw- she-" she broke off, trembling, hearing tormented screams in her mind.

Then DG was taking her hands, gently asking, "Az. What is it?"

"There were hangings in Central City Square," she said, "so many of them. I couldn't count them." She took a breath, reigned in her anxienty. "S-she killed the heads of the military and police, all the regional governors who didn't turn, and four of the Lord Advisers. Five more, the Alchemist was given to… to experiment upon. And then-"

"Glitch," DG whispered.

Azkadellia nodded miserably. "There were still eight Advisers left, then. Three more were killed during the Witch's reign."

"So there are five," said DG. "But Mother didn't recognize anyone."

Azkadellia shook her head. "This lady must be heir to the title her father bore. We will go out to meet her, of course." She let her sister lead her to the throne room where their mother was waiting.

"Ah. Azkadellia. DG. Come stand beside me, please. There is a lady who wishes an audience." She nodded to one of the guards, who disappeared, then reappeared with a young woman at his side.

She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and there was something familiar about the face she turned toward them. Azkadellia stifled a gasp; the girl looked like Jeb's second, Jacob. So she was the sister who'd survived. The only sister who'd survived.

"Your Majesty," she said, dropping into a graceful curtsey- as if she'd been at court her entire life. "And Your Highnesses, as well."

"Rise and make yourself known," Lavender said formally.

"She's sister to one of the captains," Azkadellia interrupted, flat-voiced and unconcerned with propriety.

The lady did not seem bothered. "I am Cecily Tiery, Your Highness. And, indeed, my brother, Jacob, commands Second Company in your House's name." She smiled, then, and there was both pride and pain. "I'm often told that he and I look alike."

Azkadellia remembered the way Jacob Tiery had looked at her after he'd been blessed. Except he hadn't really looked at her. All he had seen was the Witch.

Her mother, she realized, was speaking again: "But I am wondering from where you get your claim to nobility. Tiery is a common name."

Cecily nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. It was my mother's. Jacob and I have used it since-" here, Azkadellia flinched- "since the Witch came for our family. But our father was Devon Ayalo, who served as Lord Adviser."

"The engineer. I see him in your face now..." Azkadellia watched her mother search the woman's eyes. "You are his heir, then?"

"Not to his title," Cecily said. "Jacob is my elder by two annuals, and the lordship is his by rights and training. But, as a daughter of a noble house, I come to take my place- should Your Majesty accept the service."

That was the last thing Azkadellia had expected to hear. She looked at DG, who clearly didn't understand what was being said, and then back to her feet.

"We do not ask for ladies to wait on us in such trying times," her mother said calmly.

Cecily nodded. "I have noted this, Your Majesty, but- permit me to speak freely- if you are to establish yourself once more, you must show it. If this town is to become functional, so must this palace."

The Queen shook her head. "We will not be so frivolous before our people while our enemies are close at hand."

"Your people bid you to set up your court," Cecily argued boldly, "as it would have been in time past, so that we may show our enemies how insignificant they are to us. Your Majesty, I ask to serve. I will not be the last."

"Your brother would not approve of this," Azkadellia cut in.

Cecily did not disagree. "As my brother makes war, Your Highness, I will make the peace."


	8. In the Time of Waiting

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: In the Time of Waiting

Warnings: Angst, violence, language

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. Certain truths are revealed, and choices must be made.

A/N: I have the best reviewers ever- and I truly appreciate it, all of you! You've been so patient, and so kind to this little (okay, it's getting rather big) story of mine! Thank you sooooo much!

* * *

Wyatt dreamed of battle.

He saw the Queen's Army spread thin around Finaqua, fighting off a Longcoat charge- total force against total force. The royal family watched from the high windows- DG clutched in her mother's arms- and their faces were dark with growing dismay as their soldiers were cut down.

He saw Jeb holding the Queen's standard high to rally his scattered force, saw the bullet tear through his torso, saw him fall.

Tried to run to him. Couldn't move.

Paralyzed.

Trapped.

He was in the iron suit again. Condemned to watch as they came for his son with knives, with bayonets, slashing and tearing, and-

Wyatt jerked awake, knocking his hat off his face, and for a moment the blood-spattered nightmare clung in his mind. He stood up, blinking furiously, then sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to take account of his surroundings- Lorraine and Ralph's cabin, where they'd taken shelter days before.

Jeb was at the table a few feet away, talking in a low voice to Jacob Tiery. The two had a map between them, and were studying it intently- for which Wyatt was grateful, since it had kept them from noticing his rough awakening. They looked like brothers, sitting there with identically bandaged heads and mugs of chicory root coffee- and it suddenly dawned on Wyatt that Jacob was just enough older than Jeb to have been the one who'd taught him the things he should've had a father for.

"There are a lot of young boys in Third," Jeb was saying. "Kal's trained them up well, but they'll be hard pressed to hold the northern border if the Longcoats flank us. And I'm not for sending a company back to reinforce them without knowing what's ahead."

"We could split a company up," Jacob suggested. "Send half back to the border outposts, keep the rest on the march. Sixth has good lieutenants for it."

"Maybe." Jeb flicked his gaze up from the map. "Father, good morning. Join us."

Wyatt took the chair his son kicked out for him and peered at their work. The map Jeb was using showed the entire O.Z., and had been marked to indicate where their companies were located- Fifth, defending Finaqua; Third, posted at the borders; and the rest lumped together at the front.

"Seem like we're pretty small when there's just a dot to note us," he said.

"We are pretty small," Jeb replied without humor. "Best hope Ralph and Lorraine muster some newcomers to replace those who've been lost."

"Any sign of their daughter?" Wyatt asked.

His son shook his head. "Too soon yet, if she's trying to avoid patrols like the one that got us. Lorraine said she'd use care more than haste." But he still sounded worried about the young girl.

Wyatt thought of tin horses and wooden dolls, and didn't speak.

"The Longcoats only have about half a brigade in the southlands, according to Ralph," Jacob spoke up. He indicated another set of marks. "They're spread out to the northeast of us right now, far as we can tell."

Wyatt frowned. "If those positions are accurate, seems they put the Papay between them and the north for a reason."

Jeb nodded. "We aim to find out what that is. Our scouts are confirming their positions now- and their numbers."

"You're planning an ambush," Wyatt said more than asked. He pointed to the dot that marked the closest Longcoat position. "There?"

"Second Company's taking it tonight," Jacob said quietly, and his eyes were hard.

Wyatt mirrored the look. "Good."

"It's ground we know well," Jeb said. "Our own camps weren't far off, you'll remember Including one you passed through."

"You're thinking the Longcoats found Zero and let him out," Wyatt said, tensing involuntarily.

Jeb shrugged. "Crossed my mind." His voice was still calm, but there was something dark in his expression- like he was looking to pull up all his old hatred.

"One of us will kill him in battle, then," Wyatt said, hoping the answer was the right one for his boy's mood. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jacob watching their exchange warily.

Jeb's composure held, but he said, "It's a death I won't mind on my conscience. You understand that?"

Wyatt nodded, and thought he'd put that particular death on his own conscience- where it belonged- so it wouldn't matter what his boy was willing to do.

* * *

DG was playing with the children again- a game that was akin to hide-and-seek, but somehow involved kicking over a rusty can as well. When that happened, everyone scattered, and they screamed- though that seemed optional.

Azkadellia did not think she quite understood the rules.

"It's more fun if you play, Az!" DG shouted before ducking down to count to one hundred. Which meant she was "it." She'd been "it" since the game had started. The can had something to do with that.

Azkadellia had never been much for games, even before the Witch- even when she'd been a child. She'd indulged DG on occasion, but she'd preferred quieter entertainments.

Perhaps if she'd run around more, rough-housed more, she'd have been stronger- would have fought the Witch harder.

Wouldn't have stopped fighting.

DG stopped counting and looked at her again. "There's still time, Az!"

Azkadellia shook her head. Abruptly she turned to Cecily, seated beside her. "There were outings our parents arranged, in which my sister and I would socialize with noble children. Were you one of them?"

"No, Your Highness," the lady-in-waiting replied. "My siblings and I were all taught the etiquette for it, but we were raised away from court life. It was our mother's wish that we learn to live simply."

"My mother would approve of that," Azkadellia answered, thinking of the Queen's determination- since coming to Finaqua- to live among her people as well as rule them.

"It has served me well, Your Highness," Cecily said, her eyes on the children.

Their game was about to end, Azkadellia realized. The camp's lone teacher, Shiloh, had come out to call for the midday meal. He whistled once, high and clear, and the children reluctantly began emerging from their hiding places. There were immediate pleas for five more minutes, or one more round. Azkadellia almost felt like laughing.

"None of that," DG said over all their noise. "We can play again tomorrow. For now, it's lunch time."

She was exercising her authority and she didn't even notice it. The children may have grudgingly heeded the call of their teacher, but none of them hesitated to obey their Princess.

Shiloh bowed to her, a gesture made awkward by the fact that he was gripping the crutches he relied on to walk. "Will you take your meal with us, Princess Dorothy?"

DG grinned. "Sure! But only if my sister comes, too. Come on down, Az!"

"But I wasn't invited," Azkadellia protested, and she told herself such things didn't sting. Too expected- and deserved- to sting.

"It was only because I did not see you, Highness," called Shiloh. "Please, forgive the oversight and join us."

"Two princesses!" One of the children squealed, and it was quickly picked up by the others. "Two princesses! Please!"

"It would be hard to refuse such an invitation," Cecily said, and there was a smile in her voice.

Azkadellia nodded slowly and stood, gathering her skirts about her. Shiloh's smile didn't waver when she approached, and she wondered if he was a fool, as well as a cripple- before she recoiled from the unkind thought.

The Witch thought like that. Not her.

Shiloh bowed to her, as he had to DG. "Princess Azkadellia-"

"Az," she corrected, then winced when she realized she'd interrupted him.

"Princess Az," he amended, unbothered. "Be welcome at our table- or, at least, our floor. Circumstances tend to make the formal words inaccurate." He looked past her, to Cecily. "Ah, but this I can offer. Be welcome, Lady Tiery, in your time of waiting."

Cecily stiffened at that, the greeting to the women of a soldier's household, but she smiled all the while. "I was 'Cecily' to you last week, Shiloh, and I should be so now."

"I'm unused to such informality with palace-dwellers," he answered, grinning. "But perhaps in my humble surroundings I'll become more comfortable." He led them into the tent that served as his school, and ushered the students into neat rows around the serving bowls that had been laid out for them.

"Are you a princess, too?" demanded one of the youngest, eying Cecily hopefully.

"She isn't," said another. "She's Teacher's lady. Isn't she, Teacher?"

Both Cecily and Shiloh blushed at that, and Azkadellia wondered if there might be something to the child's remark… and the sudden longing she felt threatened to turn to hard envy. She squashed it.

"This is Lady Cecily," Shiloh said patiently. "She's a lady-in-waiting in the palace. That means it's her job to help the Princesses and the Queen, so she has to be with them in case they need her for something."

"Can I be a lady-in-waiting, too?" That came from one one of the girls.

"When you are older, perhaps," Azkadellia said, surprising herself- and everyone else, judging by the way their eyes turned to her- by speaking. But the girl smiled, and that was all that mattered.

"You must study your lessons hard," Cecily added. "The Queen says that ladies should not serve simply because they were born into certain families and have the fine manners to show for it. She means them to be useful."

"Then I'll study everyday!" The girl promised happily, and others were nodding their heads to agree.

Shiloh clapped his hands silently- a gesture of thanks- then turned to DG. "I had hoped Lord Ambrose would be joining us today," he said. "Is he well, Your Highness?"

Ambrose had been feeling rather low, but that morning had been serving as the Queen's scribe. Azkadellia knew her mother had taken on the arduous task of restoring Ozian law- from memory- to record. Temporary systems had been put in place to tend to the needs of the people and manage their grievances, but permanent rule had to be reestablished swiftly.

And Ambrose's penmanship was intact, whatever else had been lost.

"I'll tell him you asked about him," DG said, and Az realized she missed however her sister explained the former adviser's absence. "You two get along pretty well, huh?"

"Teacher, aren't you going to eat?" One of the boys demanded.

Shiloh bit off a large chunk of bread, then smiled, displaying the mouthful to his students- and they laughed and squealed. Azkadellia was shocked that he would be so ill-mannered in her presence, then decided she liked it.

He chewed, swallowed, and had the grace to look embarrassed. "Forgive me, Princess Dorothy, you were saying?"

"It's DG," she said. "You called my sister Az, so there's no excuse! I said that you and Gli- Ambrose- seem to be friends."

"Well, Your Highness, we're both rather unlikely survivors, aren't we?"  
Azkadellia froze. She didn't dare search her mind for Shiloh's face in the Witch's memories. Not that it would matter- he'd have been one of hundreds. One of thousands. The Witch did not mark any details about her victims, other than their crimes against her.

"Shiloh took a fall from his horse," Cecily said, low-voiced, in her ear. "He was young. It was an accident. That's all."

"Thank the gods," Azkadellia breathed, and then realized such news shouldn't relieve her. "That is, I-"

"I'd rather I didn't have someone else's mishaps on my conscience either, Princess," Shiloh cut in lightly, having evidently overheard. He gave her an understanding look. "It would be rather difficult."

* * *

DG waved a hand at the two candles in the tower window, focusing her power on the melted wax, reshaping it until there were two full tapers- brightly lit- once again.

"That's a great trick, doll," Glitch said from behind her. "You know, no one really expects you to keep those lit for the whole-" He stopped, and DG thought his mind had wandered, before realizing he'd deliberately left off the word 'war' for her.

She smiled. "It's okay, Glitch. There was a war going on back on the Other Side, too." She didn't add that it hadn't really affected her.

"There was?" Glitch looked surprised. "You never told me that! Or did you?"

She shook her head. "I didn't. It never came up, really."

"Have you told your father?"

DG frowned. "No. Why would I do- oh." It was hard to remember that Ahamo had been born on the Other Side- that he might still care what happened there- when he was at ease in O.Z. in a way she wasn't. "I guess I should."

"There was a war going on when he came here. I mean, there. There was a war there when he came here." Glitch rambled through his explanation, looking pleased that he remembered it.

DG blinked- because she hadn't thought about it, even though the timing made sense. "Vietnam?"

Glitch shrugged. "How would I know? What's a Vietnam?"

"It's a country in Asia- uh, far away from where Father and I came from." DG remembered, from high school history, how long the Vietnam War had been, and she wondered if their war would be like that.

"Wow, you look sick!" Glitch announced. "Must've been a bad war."

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks to Az, I'm more interested in history in the O.Z. now, though." Seizing on the change of subject, she showed him the book Azkadellia had given her.

Glitch gave a reverent gasp and put a hand on the cover. "This is the record of the royal Houses! And Azkadee found it?"

"She wanted me to learn what other younger daughters did while their sisters were groomed to rule," DG said. "So far, I don't think I'd be good at any of it. Maybe I should ask Shiloh- oh, and he asked about you, by the way- I should ask him if he knows anything else."

"Did you read about the sons, too?" Glitch asked, then gulped, and stammered, "No, why would you? But you read all about past princesses? Because they do a lot- did a lot- a lot of things. I think."

DG raised an eyebrow at his odd reaction, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure. There are some who became ladies-in-waiting, but we have Cecily for that. Then there were ambassadors- not necessary right now, and Lady Advisers- which I couldn't do. Did you know there were some who didn't have magic? I thought that was, you know, a given."

"The aptitude shows, or doesn't, in many families," Glitch said. "But it is particularly common in the royal families. Yours, especially. There hasn't been a Gale girl yet that didn't have magic. And, of course, a queen has to have it to-"

"- to protect the people," DG finished, hearing Tutor's voice in her head, saying the same thing.

"The people and the land," Glitch said. "When you use your magic, it's your own energy you're drawing out. But the bad ones draw from everything else. They're like leeches."

'Yeah.' DG surpressed a shudder and hastily changed the subject, "But what were you saying about the sons? They must have done some of the same things- serving in the government, and whatever."

"Of course," Glitch said, obviously trying to sound dismissive. "Nothing very interesting. Dull stories, very dull."

His insistence tipped her off. "Well. Can't hurt to look." She opened the book to the genealogy before he could stop her. "'Prince Rhys, House of Delmaro.' Sure, why not?" She flipped to the appropriate page, and her eyes widened as she took in the flowing script. "'His Royal Highness, Rhys Delmaro, war wizard in the service of sister, Queen Carysa.' What's a war wizard?"

"Uh… I don't remember?" Glitch tried hopefully.

DG rolled her eyes. Even at his worst, Glitch's academic knowledge had remained fixed in his mind, and they both knew it. "Wrong answer. Try again."

"All right," he sighed. "A war wizard was someone with magical aptitude who served in the Queen's Army. It was common for princes, especially when the Delmaro family held the throne. They had to keep it through the Ozian Civil War, and then the Guild Wars later on."

"Why didn't any of the Princesses fight?" DG asked, glancing at the book again. "I mean, if Az and I are any indication, we could do some damage." And she grimaced, remembering how much damage Az had been blamed for.

"They did fight," Glitch said reluctantly. "Even when it was forbidden- gave up their rights and titles, disguised themselves as boys."

"Really? Where can I found out about them? DG began turning pages in the book as she spoke, looking for information. If other princesses had gone to war, then she could do it, too, and she could go fight with Cain instead of waiting around to hear how it was all going.

"Wait, wait!" Glitch put his hands over hers, stilling them. "You're not hearing the whole story!"

"But-" DG started, looking at the candle she'd lit for Cain. "But what if this is my place, Glitch?"

"Rhys Delmaro," Glitch said impatiently. "Read the fine print, doll."

"Okay, okay." DG went back to the record of the Prince's exploits, assuming he'd been killed in battle. Instead, she discovered that he returned home to his wife and child after his victory in the Third Guild War... and died a few months later.

At twenty-seven.

"What happened?" She asked, dumbly.

Glitch waved his hands. "Weren't you listening earlier? Magic takes energy. Your energy! You want to fight a war with it, you're going to use up a lot!" He looked at her, and she must have looked shaken up because he softened a little. "Just look at your mother, DG- she gave up annuals using the spell that saved you. And your sister, who knows how much time the Witch drained from her. Why do you think she doesn't run around like you?"

"I thought she was just being proper," DG said quietly, hardly able to believe how blind she'd been. "Is that how it always is? The war wizards, did they all die?"

Glitch shook his head. "No. But sometimes worse things happened." He took the book, found a certain passage, and handed it back.

"'Ayden, once Princess of the House of Tesso and war wizard in the service of the Lord Regent. Traitor to the OZ...'" DG fell silent, but kept reading the account of the teenage royal who had gone to war after ten of House Tesso's advisers rebelled, taking advantage of the fact that Ayden's sister, Princess Alyss, was not legally old enough to be crowned queen.

"Ayden Tesso fought for her sister's crown, and grew weak, and decided she didn't want to die like that," Glitch filled in solemnly. "So she started to suck the life out of the land to fuel her magic- and it made her more powerful than she'd ever been. More powerful than her sister, the rightful heir, and at no cost to her."

DG read the words that confirmed what he said. "She became a witch."

"She was always a witch," Glitch replied. "She became a bad one. It took a long time to bring her down, too. And I mean it makes the last fifteen annuals look like a picnic!"

"But I wouldn't do that!" DG protested, feeling the sinking feeling in her stomach. "Not after- after seeing what the last witch did to the OZ, and to my family. There's no way I'd do that, and you know it!"

Glitch met her eyes, then looked away. "That means you'd die. Would you do that?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Your mother expects me back to help her some more… Go back outside or something, smell the- the… whatever that expression is."

"Roses," DG said. She glanced down at the book in her hands, then put it aside. "Right…"

* * *

The man was a Longcoat officer- a captain, maybe, judging by his age and uniform. He was cold, he was angry, and he'd been thoroughly beaten by Jacob Tiery in the process of being captured. Jeb prodded him with his rifle, using it to force his chin up so they were eye to eye.

"Well," he said wetly- blood in his mouth. "The Cain whelp himself."

"Shut up," Jacob growled, shoving the man down into a chair in Lorraine's kitchen.

Lorraine herself emerged from the bedroom with her shotgun. "Want me to kill him, boys?"

"In time," Jeb said casually. "If he isn't helpful to us."

"Oh, here it comes," the Longcoat laughed, shaking his head. "Get on with it, then. Ask me what you want to know, shoot me when I don't have an answer, end up no further for your trouble. And they all said you were a sharp one."

It was a weak insult, and Jeb ignored it. "Why are you so far south? Where are the rest of your people?"

"Is that it?" The man gave a negligent shrug- so much as he could with his hands bound behind him. "To kill you and yours. And I suspect they're on their way."

"From the Tower?" Jacob asked.

That brought a bout of harsh laughter. "From the Tower? You don't kno- Shit!" He broke off when Jacob slammed his head on the table.

"Enlighten us," Jeb said.

"Go to hell," the Longcoat snarled, and Jacob struck again. "Damn it! All right! There is no Tower, not anymore. They blew it up, the bastards, and a lot of men in it."

Jeb glanced at his fellows, unsure what to make of that. "Who?"

The Longcoat just laughed again. "Whole army, came from out of the north. Said they serve the 'Lords in Exile.' Got plans to make a new OZ."

"Lords in Exile," Jacob repeated.

Jeb glanced up at him. "Sounds like some old friends of your father's have come out of hiding. I'll have to thank them for the help when we cut a path northward."

Again, the Longcoat laughed. "You really don't know. Damn…" He looked at them smugly, as if he hadn't been taken as a prisoner. "You won't be thanking them… They're coming for you, too."


	9. The War Wizard's Ride

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: The War Wizard's Ride

Warnings: UBER angst, language

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. Now everything changes.

* * *

"A party?" DG asked, giving Cecily a skeptical look. "You want us to throw a party?"

"I want to have a celebration, Your Highness," she corrected, pausing to wave at the guards at the village gates.

They were out of the palace, despite a damp chill in the air, and DG gestured at the gloom around her. "Have you noticed how little there is to celebrate here?"

Cecily nodded serenely. "Yes, Your Highness. That's the point."

"Okay, you lost me there."

"If we do not start celebrating the little things, Your Highness, we'll all be lost to our grievances." Cecily pulled the drab shawl she wore closer about her shoulders. "This morning I watched your royal mother and sister sit in judgment over a dozen disputes- everything from the custody of an orphaned child to the theft of grain and milk."

That brought DG up short. She knew, of course, what her mother and, by extension, Az, had to do to keep Finaqua running- especially with refugees still arriving every week- but her mind had been occupied with war, the army, the lack of communication from Jeb…

"These are things to be expected in all societies," Cecily was saying, "but we can ill afford them here. A celebration will bring everyone back together, renew their spirits."

It made sense, but DG knew she'd have never have thought of it herself. "I don't know how you come up with this stuff," she said, shaking her head. "I can't figure out how to help out anyone around here."

Cecily arched an eyebrow. "I think the workers who built the village walls would disagree, Your Highness."

DG shrugged, remembering how she and her sister had been strangely at odds after that. Az had scolded her for wasting her magic, and she hadn't understood why until she'd read the story of Rhys Delmaro. She wished she knew if that was something she'd forgotten, or something she hadn't been told because she'd been too young for scary stories. "Cecily, you know Ozian history, don't you?"

The lady frowned at the change of subject, but nodded. "Some of it, Your Highness. My education was… cut short."

Right. DG grimaced, realizing that Cecily would have barely been a teenager when the Witch came to power. But she plowed forward anyhow, "Do you know anything about war wizards?"

"Stories, songs, things from my childhood," Cecily said. "Why does Your Highness ask?"

"Az gave me a book about the royal Houses," DG explained. "There was a story about a this one guy, Rhys, going off to war when his sister was queen. I wish I knew these stories, like you do. Maybe I did, once, but…" She shook her head.

Cecily gave her an encouraging smile. "It's good of you to learn, Your Highness, for not even everyone born and raised in the O.Z. can tell its history." Her gaze shifted toward one of the tent houses nearby. "There is Shiloh. He can tell you more, perhaps."

DG grinned at the mention of the teacher. "Hey, are you sure you don't want to have a party so you can spend some time with him?"

Cecily blushed, but answered smartly, "Your Highness, I do not remark on your feelings for Wyatt Cain, but if you'd have this conversation continue, I could do so with no remorse."

"Do your worst," DG said, trying to sound unconcerned. "There's nothing to say."

"I saw him kiss your hands before he left, Your Highness."

Now she felt her own blush coming on, and abruptly turned away to wave to Shiloh. "Hey, Teacher! Come over here-" and then because she remembered his condition, she amended, "No, hang on, we'll come over there."

Shiloh offered them a grin and a bow as they approached. "Princess DG. Milady Cecily. I do believe this day has brightened-" DG looked pointedly at the overcast sky, and he chuckled- "or perhaps I've imagined it. What is it you called to me for?"

"The Princess was asking me about war wizards," Cecily said. "I suggested that you might remember the old stories better than I."

"Are there any about Rhys Delmaro?" DG asked.

Shiloh nodded. "Certainly, Your Highness. Prince Rhys is one of the ancient heroes of the O.Z. It would have been lost without his sacrifice."

"There was a poem," Ceily said. "Wasn't there, Shiloh? I remember- 'the Queen's only brother...'"

Shiloh smiled and completed the verse:

_'The Queen's only brother got down on one knee_

_He said, "I shall fight if you ask it of me."_

_She knew that he needed her blessing to go,_

_and tearfully gave it, "Aye, may it be so._

_My brother, my knight, lead my armies with pride_

_Go now to your duty, the war wizard's ride."'_

DG shivered.

* * *

"Men," Jeb said, "our situation's changed."

Wyatt had to give his son credit for looking so calm; Jeb had his five line captains assembled so that he could deliver bad news, but his face gave no indication of the stresses now weighing on him.

Tobian, the captain of Seventh, spoke up with the same unbothered air, "We're going to find ourselves neck-deep in Longcoats in the south, then, sir?"

"We are," Jeb replied, "but they're not all we're going to find. According to our new 'friend,' a breakaway force has massed in the north and launched an offensive. That's what's driven the Longcoats to their current positions."

"So they're running scared and smacking straight into us," said Lou, from Fourth. "How many will we get?"

"A full brigade, or so our 'friend' says. The rest are holding Central City."

"Longcoat brigade's got two thousand-odd more men than us." That was from Ollie, the captain of Sixth Company.

"Yes, but they're scattered," Jacob answered. "No more than a battalion in one position. And without the Witch's magic devices, their communications will have broken down."

"Their bullets'll still work," Tobian muttered, eliciting a dark chuckle all around.

"But they're at a disadvantage," Wyatt said, calling to mind all he knew about Longcoat tactics. "They don't know how to fight from the inferior position, the way you three-" he gestured at Jeb, Jacob, and Lou, who'd all done time in the resistance- "have been training men to fight for annuals."

"Inferiorly?" Lou said dryly.

Jeb and Jacob both smirked, and Wyatt exchanged a rueful look with Tobian and Ollie- older men, like him, who'd been beaten when the Witch came to power, but figured they had it in them to go back for one more war.

"These young men today," said Ollie. "They're all mouth, you know."

"Damn good thing," Jeb retorted. "Father, I think you're right about the Longcoats. They've been shaken up, and they're disorganized. I mean for us to pick off this brigade, and when the remnants run back to Central City, we're going to chase them all the way there, bring the fight to the rest."

"It means serious action," Jacob put in. "We're going to abandon our plan to garrison men along our route north. Fifth will stay at the palace, and Third at the borders, but everyone else is going to remain on the line."

"Ralph and his people have held this territory through worse," Wyatt said, guessing at his son's thinking.

"And will continue to hold it," Ralph said from the doorway, where he stood listening as something of an honorary captain.

"That's well and good, but-" Tobian flicked his gaze over to Jeb. "Sir, I'm guessing you're going to get back around to how this war won't end in Central City. 'Breakaway force,' was it? If they broke away from the Longcoats, that'd account for their numbers."

Lou snorted. "Us whipping them at the Tower accounts for their numbers. They're-"

"Save it, Lou," Jeb ordered. "And, no, Toby. This force broke away from the Queen, and we might've guessed it'd happen. Remember our ride to get to Finaqua?"

Wyatt recalled how his stomach had knotted when he saw guns pointed at his boy and Azkadellia. "Not everyone in the O.Z. wants the monarchy back," he said aloud, "and this chaos is just the time to act on that thinking."

"But who's got the power to do it?" Lou demanded. "Are we sure it's not some lie this bastard Longcoat prinsoner thought up to throw us off?"

"It's true," Jacob said quietly, and Wyatt noticed he had an odd, tense look on his face. He hesitated, then went on, "You all know that when the Witch came to power, one of her first acts was a campaign against the Ozian nobility."

"That was how she gained support, at first," Wyatt remembered. "Princess Azkadellia, fighting for the common people… against her mother and a court that would let them die of sickness and starvation."

Jacob nodded. "She sold it well. Rallied an army to her, and had them hunt down the men and women of power who were still loyal to the Queen- chiefly, the eighteen Lord Advisers. Five of them got underground, and it seems they've been massing a resistance of their own in the far north."

"And now that the dirty work's been done for them, they've seen fit to come out," Jeb added.

"They likely believe the rightness of their actions," Jacob said. "Ozian law states that the lords can demand a queen's abdication if all of them are in agreement."

"Then I gather the fact that we've got a lord of our own isn't gonna make them any friendlier," said Lou.

"'Lord of our own?'" Wyatt echoed, startled- and he noticed Ollie and Tobian looked the same.

Jeb's expression quickly went from bemused to shamefaced. "Damn. I forget it isn't common knowledge outside of the resistance." He clapped a hand on his second's shoulder. "Jacob here is an adviser by birthright."

"Lord Ayalo," Jacob confirmed. "And, no, Lou, I don't think my existence is going to make a difference to this Lords' Army."

Wyatt hardly heard the conversation that followed, stuck on the revelation of the young man's identity- only son to the O.Z.'s master architect and engineer. Little wonder, then, that the resistance had been so good at raiding cities and planting destructive charges; they'd practically had blueprints at their disposal.

Wyatt realized Jacob had stopped talking to the others, and was watching him calmly. "I take it you knew my father?"

"Knew of," Wyatt said. "Lot of functions I worked security, he was in attendance. Central's tin men tried to get word out to him when the Witch…" He trailed off, remembering the desperate days of the last stand, and shook his head.

"Word reached him," Jacob said, "and gave my family four annuals more together than we'd have otherwise had. Later, perhaps, I'll tell you of it."

Wyatt nodded, and shifted his attention back to his son. Jeb was giving individual orders, shaking hands rather than exchanging salutes with each captain as they were dismissed. After Lou, the last, he dropped into his chair with a weary sigh.

"Jacob," he said, without looking up, "write a new report for the Queen, leave it with Lorraine to find a rider. I hope to see her Ella back, but-" He broke off. "Damn the delay in getting word to them."

Jacob posted off to obey his orders, and Wyatt waited for his son to speak to him. It was a long while, during which Jeb didn't move at all, but then he looked up and said, "I thought things would get easier without the Witch to contend with."

"If you mean not having to face her magic, then it is easier," Wyatt said. "But fighting men who seem to be the same as you is always a strain on the mind. Fact is, these Lords and their followers probably think they're doing what's best."

"I know it." Jeb finally looked up. "And damned if we're not about to kill each other for our good intentions."

* * *

Lavender heard the clamor that went up as the soldiers on guard spotted a rider from the north. She looked out the window in time to see the slight figure on horseback, carrying the purple cloth that identified a messenger from the army, come galloping through the gates. She knew she had to go down and receive Captain Cain's reports. But as she turned, the realization that such reports would include casualty lists fully hit her, and she staggered for a moment before mastering herself.

She had been at war before, and she would manage it now.

She hurried down the stairs, through the grand hall- where Ahamo fell into step with her- and out onto the steps. The crowd gathered anxiously before her, and the soldiers had to escort the rider through. It was a girl, Lavender realized, pale and dirty, and eagerly munching on an apple she'd gotten from somewhere. "Gods," she whispered to her husband, "what can Captain Cain have been thinking, sending a child on such a ride?"

Then she heard DG's voice in the crowd. "Ella? Ella!" Then her daughter was pushing her way over to the girl, and hugging her tightly- someone she'd met, then. "Ella, are they with your family?"

The girl nodded, and DG started to ask another question, but Lavender spoke over her, "Let the messenger approach."

"Will you read aloud?" Ahamo asked softly.

Lavender hesitated. The information could be sensitive, but she looked at her people, desperate to know what had befallen their loved ones. She could see pale-faced Cecily beside DG, no doubt fearing for her brother's life. "I will not make them wait in agony," she decided.

The child messenger made it to her, dropped an awkward bob of a curtsy. "I meant to be faster, Queen Lavender," she said, and held out a parcel of papers.

Lavender took them, glanced at the date, and realized they were weeks old now. "Were you attacked, child?" She asked.

Ella shook her head. "No'm. But I had to hide so I wouldn't be."

"I see." That meant Longcoats in the southern regions, far closer than they'd expected. Lavender knelt so that she could look the girl in the eyes, and smooth her dirty hair. "You did well in coming." And she gestured to the soldiers to take the girl into the palace for food and rest.

That done, she opened Jeb's reports. Several bits of personal correspondence were folded behind the official papers- including a note to her daughter from Wyatt Cain- and these she gave to Ahamo to deliver to their owners.

She did not miss how DG clutched hers over her heart when it was given to her.

Reluctant, but aware of all eyes on her, she rose up and stared at Jeb Cain's clipped account of their situation. His handwriting was shaky, and she wondered if he'd been injured, or if it was simply the weight of the task.

"Our border has been protected," she said to the crowd, "but the Longcoats are moving south. They met our forces in battle, and-" she bowed her head- "and there is a list of the dead." She sought her husband's bracing gaze as he returned to her side, then looked back at her people, and she started to read.

* * *

Azkadellia stood behind her mother, in the dark of the doorway where she might not be seen. Seventeen names. Seventeen men weeks dead now, and buried unmarked and far from their families- their sobbing, hysterical families. She almost covered her ears. Because she'd heard such grief all too often while the Witch had enslaved her, used her voice to order death after death, twisted her lips into a smile.

"You sent them to die!" A woman in the crowd suddenly shrieked.

Azkadellia flinched back, thinking she'd been seen, but, no, the woman- being restrained by two others- was looking at her mother, reaching out with flailing, claw-like hands.

"How dare you stand before us! You, with your husband at your side, and your children safe! How dare you! How dare you!" Her screams turned to gulps of incoherent, tear-filled rage.

And for a moment, Az saw red, staggering back at the shock of her own anger. It felt too much like the Witch, and she couldn't, she couldn't… But she wanted her mother to scream out the pain of fifteen annuals of torment. She wanted her mother to tell them all how much her family had suffered before this day.

But the Queen did no such thing. "We grieve with you," she said, then reached for Ahamo's hand and turned back toward the palace.

Azkadellia shied away when her parents entered, keeping her eyes on the crowd- and on those whose faces showed doubt that the royal family did, in fact, grieve. She saw DG push her way out from among the people and hurry up the stairs. Cecily should have followed, but instead she was clinging to Shiloh as he gently wiped the tears off her cheeks.

Was she crying because she was relieved? Did relief make her feel guilty?

DG shut the doors behind her as she entered. "This is terrible."

Azkadellia, out of the corner of her eye, saw their mother flinch, but she mastered herself and waved for one of the guards, ordering, "Summon the Viewer, Raw."

"Raw?" DG's voice rose in surprise. "Mother, you know he doesn't like coming down when there's-"

"She wants him to ask his people for aid," Azkadellia interrupted, understanding the request. "If they go with our army, fewer will die."

"But you can't send him away," DG argued. "What if something happened here and you needed a healer? And besides, from all he ever told us, I don't think they'd listen to him."

"Then they will listen to their Queen," their mother said, her voice hard.

"Mother, no," Azkadellia began, then found she didn't know how to argue her case. DG was right- Raw's presence, however elusive, was vital at Finaqua. But so was the Queen's; even her briefest absence would cause the fragile society to crack.

"My daughters, I must go. There is no other way."

"No!" DG burst out fiercely. She looked from mother to father, drew a breath, and said, "I'll go."

"Oh, DG," their mother began.

"No. You can't tell me it isn't my place. I read it. Second children have gone to war."

Azkadellia went cold, and then the anger- her terrible, frightening anger- boiled up. "That's not what I wanted you to read!"

"Then you shouldn't have given me the book!" DG snapped. "And it's too late now!"

"Girls." Their father stepped forward, coming between them, and gave them a weary, frustrated look. "Explain what this is about."

"DG's talking about war wizards," Azkadellia burst out before her sister could explain her plan. "She read the record of the royal Houses." And their parents looked shocked, like she wanted them to.

DG threw up her hands, as if to ward off their protests. "Az gave the book to me! She said it would help me find my place-"

"I didn't want you becoming a witch!" Azkadellia shrieked, raising her hands up to strike- like the Witch would have. She crumbled almost instantly, and felt her father's arm's go around her.

DG's eyes were saucer-wide. "Oh, sh- Az, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I didn't think about that. I was thinking about the war wizards, like you said, the ones who won."

"Many died in the process, you know," their father said raggedly.

"But I won't," DG insisted, and Azkadellia hated her sister's determined, earnest tone. Because how could she suggest such a thing? How could she? She did: "I'm not talking about… shooting fire out of my fingertips, or something. I'm saying I'll go to the Viewers. I'll let them read me, if it'll help prove we need them. And if I run into trouble-" She waved her hands- "well, then I can protect myself. You know I can."

And, of course, they did. Because it was DG who'd saved the O.Z., even if she'd also triggered its ruin in the first place. Azkadellia let herself think the unkind thought, then pushed it away.

"DG," her mother tried, "you needn't feel guilty for what you heard outside. No one would require this of you.""

"But that woman was right, Mother." DG was crying, like they all were. "We're the only family that's together, and what right have we got? I've been trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do as a princess, and… it's this, isn't it?"

Azkadellia waited for the denial, but instead their father said, "Perhaps it is."

"Ahamo," their mother began, her hands going to her heart. "Darling, you can't be agreeing with this."

"Can we stop her?" Ahamo asked resignedly. Azkadellia backed out of his embrace to look at him as he added, "But I will go with her... if you'll permit my absence from your side yet again."

DG shook her head. "Father, you don't have to do that. I mean, you two have been apart for so long, and-"

"We've all been parted for the same amount of time," Azkadellia said flatly. "And you would have us part again."

"Azkadellia," their mother said quietly. "Do not be hurtful-" and Az flinched at that- "I know that you do not want to be."

No, Azkadellia knew that she did not want to be hurtful. She wanted happiness, and no lists of the dead, and no talk of war wizards and witches. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.

But her mother took her father's hands, and DG's, and gave them her blessing.


	10. Filial Devotion

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Filial Devotion

Warnings: Violence, language, me yet again picking on Jeb Cain...

Disclaimer: It isn't mine.

Summary: Post-series, picks up right after the series ended. Eventual DG/Cain. War and family, and the war wizard's ride.

* * *

Ahamo woke before dawn, even though the watch schedule he'd set up with DG allowed him another hour of sleep. He sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness in his muscles and the dew on his clothes, and ruefully thought he was getting to old for saving the O.Z.

The sight of his daughter, huddled on the other side of the long-dead campfire, wide eyes on the forest around them, sobered him considerably.

DG had carried herself so well since they'd set out- strong, stubborn, and every bit convinced she was doing the right thing going to the Viewers. At the border of Finaqua they'd stopped to inspect the fortifications set up by the army's Third Company. Ahamo had been impressed by Kal and his men, however green a lot of them were, and DG had ridden up and down the lines while they'd clamored and cheered.

She'd been wide-eyed and awed for hours after that, amazed they had treated her like a hero, even though she'd been one since the storm that had blown her back into the O.Z.

The ones who were old enough to have grown up before the Witch's reign knew the old stories of the royals who'd gone out to fight for the land they ruled. Ahamo had feared, briefly, that they'd remember the traitor princess, as well, and fear the rise of another witch, a more powerful witch, but it seemed DG outshone such fears.

War wizard, they'd shouted, and three cheers for Princess Dorothy.

And perhaps, he thought, all of that had made him forget that she was still a young woman newly thrown into a situation of terrible responsibility. He'd treated her as the war wizard she'd claimed to be, as the daughter she might have been if she'd been trained for this her entire life, but he looked at her now as she kept the watch and he saw how small and scared she was.

She noticed him watching her, and tried to put on a brave smile. "We'll reach the Viewers in a few hours, right?"

Ahamo nodded. "You've made me very proud, DG," he said. He thought, perhaps, she needed to hear it.

She tried the smile again, and shrugged. "You're a crowd of one."

"You truly think that?" Ahamo asked, surprised. "What of the hope you have given to those who have seen you ride out from Finaqua?"

"Mother was crying when we left," DG answered. "And Az… Az didn't even come down to say goodbye."

So that was what was troubling her. Ahamo reached out- hesitantly, because he'd missed so many annuals of practice- and put his hand beneath her chin to raise her gaze to his. "It must be difficult," he said, "when a world needs saving, and the only one who can save it is you. Perhaps it is also difficult for those who love you to let you go."

"Mother let you go," DG argued, but she looked thoughtful.

"She's had unfortunate practice." Ahamo looked to the lightening sky and got to his feet, pleased that his daughter was not too dispirited to follow suit. "But DG, your sister is afraid- rightly afraid- of the power that a witch, be she good or evil, can wield. Losing you to it is something that the Witch who possessed her tormented her with."

"But just because it happened in the past doesn't mean it's going to happen to me!" DG marched angrily over to tend to their horses. "I'm not going to fight! I'll probably never even use my magic!"

"Which is why your mother and I agreed to let you do this," Ahamo replied, looking her in the eyes again. "Because magic can be deadly, DG, make no mistake about that."

"Mother didn't die."

"No," Ahamo said. "But the risk of using such power should be left for the darkest hour."

DG didn't argue that. She squared her shoulders, summoned her determination, then said, "Guess we should ride."

* * *

Jeb deflected a Longcoat bayonet angling toward his abdomen, grimacing as the maneuver sent shocks of pain through his arm. He'd gotten cut early on, a nasty gash just below his shoulder, and he could feel blood seeping through his shirt sleeve.

He pushed his attacker back, got his own bayoneted rifle into the man's stomach, and twisted. He kicked the sagging body away, and another took its place, then another.

A low sweeping kick knocked him off his feet, and the impact with the ground sent the breath buffeting out of his body. Everything blurred, and, acting on instinct, he brought his rifle up to where he thought his attacker would be. The bayonet hit flesh, then bone, and he felt the warm spray of blood on his skin.

He threw his rifle and the Longcoat body impaled on it, and drew his pistol as he rolled back to his feet. They were winning, and he knew it, but he couldn't stop fighting. "Keep on them!" He shouted as the retreat sounded from the Longcoat lines.

"Eighth is still dug in two miles up," someone shouted back. "They'll get 'em, sir."

Jeb waved in the general direction of the voice, and allowed himself a grim smile as he fired off one more round at the enemy. "Relay my orders! Seventh stays in pursuit!"

He wished like hell he had a radio, but he heard shout after shout echo his orders.

He squinted through the darkness and smoke of the battlefield to see Tobian call for the charge; the men of Seventh would push their enemies right to the place where the men of Eighth were waiting.

As the battle moved away, he allowed himself to relax a fraction, allowed his mind to go blank. He scarcely registered the goings-on around him until Jacob came to his side.

"We've taken a beating, sir."

Jeb nodded, and immediately had to clamp down on a wave of nausea. Blood loss, he realized, as his vision blurred; it was catching up to him.

Jacob carefully guided him down on a clean patch of ground. "You've taken a beating all yourself, I see. My report can wait-"

"No. Now." Jeb injected as much force into his voice as he could. If he stopped putting his people first, it would change him, make him the kind of leader he didn't want to be.

"At least let me take care of that as I talk, sir," Jacob said, motioning to his bloody arm. "I do not want your father coming back after a battle like this and having you to worry about."

"Good thing he's on point," Jeb muttered, thinking about the Longcoats that Eighth was about to spring on, and the fact that he'd be in better condition by the time his father saw him again.

"We need to be careful, sir," Jacob chided. "It's little things like these that keep adding up on us." He took out his canteen so he could clean the wound, and Jeb sucked in a breath when the cold water hit his skin.

"It's the fatal things that add up, too," he bit out. "How many?"

"We're still counting," Jacob answered, his voice flat. They exchanged a world-weary look, and he went on, "That first hit, last night, that hurt us the worst. Seventy-two dead. Sixth took the worst of it."

"How's Ollie?" Jeb asked, recalling that Sixth's captain had been wounded.

"He's gone." Jacob took his arm and set about bandaging it up. "A handful of men stayed behind with him, as you know. One rode in on Ollie's horse just before I came to give my report… said it was over."

Jeb let the news hit him, then pushed away the pain of it. "Yeah."

He knew that Ollie had a son at Finaqua, a boy of six or seven annuals. Treacherously, his mind flashed back to the moment Princess DG had called him over to the children, the ones who'd asked him to bring their fathers home.

It occurred to him, in an out of place way, that she'd been silently asking him to bring his own father home, too.

Jacob spoke again, "Sir, we've been chasing the Longcoats all night. With your permission, I'll stand the men down, let them rest a while. They'll have a few hours until Seventh and Eighth come back, and this is as safe a place as we're going to get."

"Send a rider to find Lou, as well," Jeb said. "Tell him the cavalry's advanced too far and the Longcoats are hitting our middle. He has to sweep around and scout their positions."

"Yes, sir, I'll have one of my lieutenants see to it."

"All right." Jeb probed his injured arm cautiously. "I'll get myself tended to now. When my father gets back, tell him to find me."

* * *

The farmer stood in the throne room with a discolored, misshapen potato in his hand, and a mournful look on his face.

It was ridiculous, Lavender thought, how so small a thing, held by a quiet, simple man, could be so terrible. "How-" she began, and her voice caught. "How bad?"

"Gotten to the entire field, Your Majesty." The man flinched, as if he expected to be struck for his words.

That, Lavender thought regretfully, was probably due to the fact that Azkadellia was at her side. The people may have accepted her daughter as a person apart from the Witch, but memories did not fade easily.

On her other side, serving as her sole Lord Adviser and companion, Ambrose shifted uneasily. "Oh, if only we had my Sunseeder…"

Lavender didn't have the heart to remind her old friend how much trouble had come from that machine, even before the Witch had gone after the plans; it simply wasn't in his nature to dwell on such things.

"Still so much death," Azkadellia said, staring at the rotted potato.

The farmer swallowed hard.

"Are the rest of our crops intact?" Lavender asked.

"Oh yes, Your Majesty. And we'll burn the rotted field, to be sure."

"That will do." Lavender knew that they would go hungry on their remaining food supply, but she could not voice such fears. "I shall come out later to thank all hands for their work."

"Hands," Azkadellia said, then shrank back from her own voice.

Lavender wished Ahamo and DG were there to tend to her elder daughter; the two of them seemed better at it than she was. She had to be Queen, and train Azkadellia as Crown Princess, and that left little room for comfort.

The farmer bowed uncomfortably. "I'll get back to the fields then, Your Majesty, if you will permit me."

Lavender waved a hand to dismiss him. "Go." When he was out the door, she turned to her daughter. "Azkadellia, darling, you must learn to control such outbursts."

"Yes, Mother, forgive me," She didn't raise her eyes as she spoke.

"She's right, Azkadee," Ambrose interjected. "If you keep that up, you'll be like me! You'll glitch!"

"That would be doing something."

Lavender frowned at her daughter's odd answer, but Azkadellia looked up and tried to smile.

"Mother, Cecily will be done showing the two new ladies their duties. You remember, she was bringing them in today?"

Lavender nodded. "Of course." She had approved Cecily's suggestion that two other young women of comparable age- though common birth- take positions of service in the palace. The people did seem to feel better knowing the court was being restored, as Cecily had said they would.

"May I go meet them?" Azkadellia asked. "I… believe that is among my duties. And Cecily will need to think more about this celebration she's been planning to make, given the news we have received."

The way she shifted from broken to dignified was dizzying, Lavender thought, and impossible to follow. But what could she do besides try to keep up? She said, "Yes, my daughter, that would be good of you."

"Your Majesty, you seem… deeply worried," Ambrose remarked when Azkadellia had gone.

Lavender sighed. "I have many reasons to be."

* * *

Wyatt's men were still breathing hard and wiping the blood off their hands when they reached the camp the rest of the army had set up. Seeing that the other soldiers were at rest, he quickly dismissed his own men to join them. It didn't seem likely that they would be on the move again soon, especially since he was about to report that they'd gotten the rest of the battalion they'd been chasing. The time to regroup would do them all a bit of good.

It was selfish, but he was happy the more grisly tasks had been handled while his company was still engaged; the dead had been buried and the wounded tended to. Someone had even gotten a breakfast fire going, and his stomach growled as he smelled the cooking.

It was almost like being on patrol in Central City, he thought. Most mornings, back then, he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten either.

He gravitated toward the fire, where many of the men were gathered. Liese, the dynamiter, had an old harmonica, and a few of his fellows were singing an old camp song- and Wyatt was amazed it had been remembered when so much else had gotten lost in the last fifteen annuals:

_Saralee, my darling dear, I've gone away to war__  
__And will you wait for me till I come marching home once more_

_The army's not so bad, you know__  
__All though the work is hard__  
__I slew a hundred enemies__  
__And still I'm standing guard_

_Saralee, my darling dear, I've gone away to war__  
__And will you wait for me till I come marching home once more_

_A war cannot go on so long__  
__We'll soon be home, they say__  
__So light a candle in the window__  
__And you'll surely light my way…_

Wyatt smiled to himself, thinking of the more… creative verses he'd heard over the annuals.

Tobian, who'd come into camp behind him, took in the scene as he approached. "Not one for singing, Cain?"

"No one to sing about," Wyatt corrected, absently rubbing the place where his wedding band used to be. "Not anymore."

Tobian arched an eyebrow. "Not even the Princess who lit a candle for you? Sure, we all saw that."

Wyatt was saved from answering- and he didn't know what he would've said- by Jacob Tiery's sudden approach.

"Captain Cain. Your son asked me to find you when you rode in."

At that, he felt something in his heart clench painfully. "Why didn't he come himself? Is he all right?" For a panicked moment he thought about Sixth's captain, Ollie- surely dead of his wounds by now- and saw Jeb in his place.

"He's all right," Jacob assured him. "Just minding too many things to keep an eye out."

Wyatt relaxed, embarrassed by his worry. "He would be," he grumbled. "Where's he at?"

Jacob indicated a tree on the far side of camp, and the figure leaned up against it, wearing a familiar red scarf. Even at that distance, Wyatt could tell it wasn't the only thing that was red, but he forced himself to be calm, knowing Jacob wouldn't lie about Jeb's condition.

He seemed well enough to be pouring over a map, so focused on it he didn't notice his father's approach.

Wyatt cleared his throat. "Got yourself on the wrong end of a bayonet, I see."

Jeb started, then glared, then looked sheepish- in almost comically quick time. "Father. Good. I told Jacob to find you when you rode in."

"Which he did." Wyatt eased himself into a sitting position. "I'd have come anyhow... it's been a hell of a night."

"Yeah." Jeb rubbed his eyes and set the map aside. "We've lost a lot of men."

Wyatt knew his own company was dwindling toward half strength, and figured casualties were high in the other companies as well. "We all knew what'd happen when we decided to take the offensive against this brigade."

Jeb nodded. "Ollie didn't make it."

"I'd guessed that." Wyatt bowed his head briefly. "He was a damned good soldier."

"You know, if you died, I'd keep fighting."

The words came so abruptly, so frankly, that Wyatt wasn't sure what to say in reply to them. He looked at his boy for some indication of what he was thinking.

"I thought you were dead for most of my life," Jeb said in the same tone. "And I fought anyhow. Sometimes, I think I'm more tired of the fighting than you are."

Wyatt started to agree with him, but was cut off.

"But then I see the way you take guard duty at night, sleep away from everyone because it's too tight, too close." Jeb rubbed his neck, a quick, anxious gesture. "I know what that's like. I know it's worse for you than it'll ever be for me."

"You weren't supposed to," Wyatt said. "Know what it's like. Or notice it in me."

Jeb shrugged. "Guess you shouldn't have taught me to be observant, then." He gave a bittersweet half-smile. "You taught me a lot, even when you weren't there. Taught me that a man's got to protect what matters."

Wyatt nodded, at last catching his son's train of thought. "So you'd keep fighting 'cause there'd still be things to protect. I never thought you wouldn't. But I do plan on keeping myself alive awhile."

"Be for the best," Jeb replied. "Did you get the rest of that battalion?"

"Every last one," Wyatt said with satisfaction. "Lost the trail, though."

"That's because it's changed." Jeb picked up his map again. "The Longcoats were going south toward Finaqua… but the last three times they fell back, they turned east. Their brigade's on the move… but toward what?"

"We're still southwest of the Papay Fields," Wyatt pointed out. "Wouldn't be a bad strategy to try to pin us in between their guns and the Papay."

"But they'd have to turn again to get around us, and Lou's cavalry would ride them down if they tried. They must know that." Jeb traced meaningless circles around the last marked Longcoat position. "So what are they after?"

* * *

Riding to the Viewers, DG decided, wasn't so much different than trekking across the O.Z. trying to find clues to her past. As long as she didn't think about how the fate of the realm depended on her.

It had depended on her the first time around, too, but somehow this was worse.

She sighed and tried to focus on the task at hand. The increasingly dense forest meant slow-going as they made their way along the overgrown trails. She looked up and realized her father was nowhere in sight, and felt a stab of fear.

She wasn't sure if she should yell for him, so she resisted the urge, but tried to pick up her pace.

She rounded a bend and saw him, frozen still. He moved only his eyes to look at her, and she had the presence of mind to bring her horse to a halt. She couldn't see whatever he was watching, but she knew it couldn't be good.

Slowly, carefully, he dismounted, and crept back down the trail towards her. His horse pawed the ground, but didn't move.

"Father?" DG whispered, heart in her throat.

He held a hand up. "Get down. We'll be quicker on foot in these woods." He was practically pulling her out of the saddle.

"But what about- wait!" DG tried to pull away, and ended up half-falling to the ground.

"There is no time!" Her father hissed. He steadied her and looked her square in the eyes. "No matter what happens to me, you have to keep going- due east, you understand?"

She nodded. She didn't dare speak.

"Then run!"


	11. Decisions and Consequences

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Decisions and Consequences

Warnings: Wooboy. May inspire a serious need to hug the Cain men?

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. The past, the present, and the choices that are made.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

* * *

The sound of gunfire in the distance startled the whole army, and had Jeb shouting for his men to come to arms. There was a moment of lethargy, of disorientation, before their training kicked in. Even the riders from Fourth Company, who'd hardly been out of the saddle, were moving to make ready. "Lou, you hold tight to our right flank until the enemy's sighted," Jeb told the cavalry captain. "Then take them fast. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Lou grinned and galloped off to relay the orders.

Jeb hurriedly saddled and mounted his own horse, taking grim notice of how few officers outside the cavalry could still do the same. Even Jacob was on foot, marshaling the men into lines. But as fast as they could in such conditions, they moved out- southeast, toward the gunfire, toward the Longcoats. Jeb was a good rider, and could have- wanted to- outrun his entire force, but the leader in him kept him in line.

It still didn't take long to find action; they came upon it so quickly that Fourth almost rode into the crossfire, but Lou wheeled them hard left and shouted for the charge. Surprise gave them the immediate advantage, and the Longcoat lines broke before them. Jeb ordered the men on foot to close in and fire, and keep firing.

He took the recoil from his rifle on his wounded shoulder, but he had to ignore the pain, had to keep his attention on the entire battlefield. His father had taken the remnants of Sixth Company, leaderless and well below half strength now, and put them in his own command, ordering them east- cutting off the chance of a Longcoat escape. It was a smart tactic, but it didn't look like the Longcoats had escape in mind. They were firing at a frenzied pace, shot after shot- not at the army, but into the woods.

"The hell are they shooting at?" Jeb hollered to no one in particular. Whoever it was, it was important, and- far as he could tell- wasn't firing back. "Toby!" he shouted. "Get your men between them and whatever's over there!"

"Yessir!"

But before anyone could move into a new position, a shockwave of magical energy lanced out from behind a tree, felling an entire column of Longcoat men and sending the rest in a panicked rush to regroup.

Another blast scattered them further.

Jeb's horse reared, nearly throwing him to the ground. As he struggled to keep his seat he tried to think through what was happening. He knew power like that, had seen it used by Azkadelia- by the Witch.

A third blast, and a figure stepped out of hiding.

Not Azkadellia.

"DG!"

Jeb saw his father urging his horse towards the youngest princess, heedless of anything else. He hastened to follow, all the while wondering how DG had gotten there, how she'd gotten such power. He'd never seen her do anything like that before.

"Gods, DG!" his father exclaimed, jumping from the saddle to get to her side. "What are you doing here? How?"

DG looked at him incomprehensibly, and for a terrible moment Jeb feared that the Witch had returned and taken her this time, but then he took in her paper-pale face and trembling body.

His father was already moving to steady her. "Come on, kiddo, talk to me."

"I-I was sent," she managed. "Mother… told me… ride…"

Then she collapsed in his arms.

* * *

Azkadellia stared at her hands, and didn't look up when Cecily sat down beside her, or when she started speaking.

"I wanted to thank you, Your Highness, for giving an audience to Rose and Tara. It honored them that you did so."

But it didn't honor them; it terrified them. Rose and Tara were the new ladies of the court, and they were both like Cecily's brother, Jacob, because they still saw the Witch. Azkadellia could tell that they saw the Witch. It was in her skin- in the paleness, the near translucence. That was what the Witch had done to her, leeching her magic, draining her life. She couldn't get rid of it.

And she was always going to look like the Witch. Because the Witch had looked like her.

The Witch had been strong.

She missed being strong.

"Captain Cain and I used to speak," she said. "Did you know that?" Jeb had wanted her to be strong because she was going to be a queen someday.

Cecily gave her a bemused smile. "Yes, Your Highness. My brother remarked on it often enough."

"He and I did not speak." Azkadellia tried to banish Jacob's distrustful eyes from her mind, to no avail.

"It's my hope that will change when our army returns, Your Highness," Cecily said carefully.

"It will if a change is warranted." She thought about strength, about what she could do if she had the strength. If she dared to look for it.

The sound of a door opening nearby made both women turn. The Viewer, Raw, had come into the hall and was nervously walking towards them.

"Viewer," Cecily greeted him. "May I assist you?"

"Not you," Raw said softly.

Azkadellia took a step forward, telling herself it wasn't hurtful that he shied away. "You would speak with me?" she asked.

"Would walk with you," he corrected, though he seemed more ready to turn and run back into hiding. "Walk out to the fields."

So he did sense what was on her mind. "But why would you do this?"

"Because," he said, at last edging closer. "Raw think Azkadellia… might need courage."

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I do." She spun on her heel and headed for the doors, knowing he was following- and Cecily with him. The both of them would make her strong enough to do what was necessary.

She ran toward the fields they had pinned all their hopes on, the fields where the workers were now gathered with tinder boxes and torches. Burning out the bad parts. "Stop!" She demanded in as imperious a voice as she could manage.

The effect was immediate. The men stayed their torches, and many of them grew pale when they realized who had spoken, but she'd expected that. She looked over her shoulder at Raw and Cecily, and the guards, and other folk who wondered what was happening. Her fingers trembled now; she forced them to steady. "You," she said, spotting the farmer who had come before the throne that morning. "Speak, and honestly."

The man swallowed hard and took a tiny step forward. "W-what would Your Highness have me say?"

"Say that we will die without this crop." She didn't look at the others, who shook their heads and started to deny it. That was their fear speaking, and she had no use for that. "Say it unless it is a lie."

"We will die, Your Highness," the man she'd addressed told her. "Some of us, surely, because of this. That is why I came to your royal mother."

"I know." Azkadellia drew a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and summoned her magic.

* * *

Once- ages ago- DG got into a bike accident on her way to the diner and woke up in the hospital with her parents- except not really- hovering over her.

Waking up now hurt as bad as it had hurt then.

She forced her heavy eyes open, half expecting to find herself back in Kansas, a mess of bandages and plaster. But, no, she was lying on the ground in an army tent, and the aches assaulting her body were the result of her magic rather than an abrupt introduction to the pavement.

Her mind was still hazy, but she remembered the way the magic had been unleashed, remembered the ground rushing up to meet her, and being caught in Cain's strong arms…

Cain.

She turned her head and saw him leaned up against one of the tent poles, hat pulled low over his eyes as he slept. She took in the dirt and blood on his clothes, the scrapes and bruises on his skin, and realized he'd been with her since the battle had ended. He hadn't even bothered to see to himself.

How long had she been out? She really didn't know.

And for the first time she truly felt foolish for leaving Finaqua, for thinking she could be like the ancient heroes, the war wizards. She was certain now that she could die trying. Now that she'd used the kind of magic it took to fight battles, she understood why so many of them had.

She didn't know how her mother hadn't. How Az hadn't.

A tear trickled down her cheek, and another, and she couldn't stop it.

"DG?" Cain had sat up and was rubbing at his eyes. He blinked several times, and moved to her side. "DG, what is it? What do you need?"

She clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. "Oh, Cain, I've been so stupid! It wasn't supposed to be like this! I should never have made my father take me!" At the startled look on his face, she stiffened. "Cain! My father! W-we got separated, and-" she pulled back, feeling a knot of fear settle in her stomach- "he's here, too, isn't he? You found him?"

Cain didn't answer, but got up and opened the tent flap. To the soldier standing guard outside, he said, "Get my son, tell him to gather the captains."

DG grabbed his arms as he came back to her. "Cain! Cain, talk to me. My father-" she swallowed hard- "The Longcoats have my father?"

"I don't know, Princess. You were the only one we saw on the battlefield." He gently pushed away from her, running his hands over his head- a frustrated gesture. "By the gods, DG, why aren't you at the palace where you belong?"

The palace where she belonged. DG repeated the phrase over and over in her mind until something within her burst. In a tear-filled torrent, she told him about the day Ella rode in with Jeb's report, and her mother's decision to ask the Viewers for help, about reading the book Az had given her and volunteering to ride out like a war wizard. When she finished she sniffled and waited for Cain's reaction.

"You realize you could get yourself killed?" he asked, sounding as though the words were being pulled out of him unwillingly.

"Just another day in the O.Z. since I got here," she replied, trying to joke, and immediately regretting it when Cain shut his eyes and shook his head.

"Princess- DG. Don't."

"Sorry." She shifted so that she was closer to him once more. "But, Cain, listen. There's a reason I came this far, and I won't go back on that now. And if my father is-" She stopped, feeling her voice threatening to break.

"All right." Cain exhaled slowly. "If he's out there, kid, we'll find him… Can you walk?"

"I think so." She reached for the hand he held out to her, and let him pull her out of the tent. It was night time, she realized, and the army was loosely scattered- in tents or out in the open- throughout a large clearing. The men who weren't sleeping glanced up at her and Cain as they passed, some of them murmuring in low voices.

Most of them looked wary, uneasy- so unlike the men who'd cheered for her when she and her father had ridden from Finaqua. When she'd been at his side she'd been hailed as a hero, but these men- who'd shed blood to rescue her with no knowledge of her mission- offered no such welcome. Cain pulled her past them, heading towards a low campfire where four men were waiting. She recognized Jeb and Jacob, and two other captains of the line. Her heart sank when she realized that there should have been one more. She didn't know who he'd been, and she really thought that she should have.

Jeb stood to greet her, and she was struck by how battered he looked- dark circles under his eyes, bandages on his shoulder, scars on his face and hands. But he gave her a wry smile all the same. "Welcome to the army, Princess."

"She's got some news to share," Cain said grimly. "None of it's good."

"It never is," said the redheaded captain on the other side of the fire. "Beggin' Your Highness's pardon, of course."

"Lou," Jeb said warningly. "Leave the clever remarks in your mouth for once." He indicated the fallen log where he'd been seated. "Take my place, Your Highness, and tell us what's happened."

DG sat down, biting her lip. It felt like being called on the carpet in school, with all their grim eyes on her as she stammered through her explanation. At the end, she paused for a breath, and Jeb spoke into the silence:

"So in all likelihood the Consort is in the enemy's hands. Damn it all. This changes everything."

"But it also gives us some answers about the Longcoat pattern of movement," said the old captain beside him, looking none to pleased about the whole situation.

"What's do you mean?" DG asked.

"Tobian's thinking the Longcoats had the same idea as the Queen- get to the Viewers," Jeb said.

"If they've got the Consort captive they've got all the more reason," added Lou.

"Well, then we've got to get to them first!" DG cried, horrified by the thought of Raw's people being tortured again- and forced to read her father's mind for information.

Tobian snorted. "Due respect, Your Highness, but you've got no cause to say 'we' should do anything. It was your playacting as a hero that landed us in this mess in the first place."

DG immediately dropped back onto the log, clamping down on a sudden spike of nausea. She felt Cain squeeze her shoulders, and heard Jeb's immediate reprimand, but she couldn't process it over the roaring in her ears. It was her fault… It was her fault.

It was Jacob's voice- and she realized he'd not spoken before- that cut through her panic. "The Princess undertook her journey at the Queen's command, not on her own un-thought whim. She was blessed as a war wizard, andnd can any of us, after seeing her power used this morning, question that?"

"Questioning her power and questioning her presence here are different things," Tobian answered. "A war wizard- if we can call her that- most often dies or turns, and either way it puts us worse off than we were before."

"That's not what will happen!" DG insisted. "How can you even think that it would, knowing who my sister is!"

"We didn't think it'd happen to her either," Tobian said. "Nor did the Queen and Consor, I'm sure."

That stung- and deservedly- but she held her ground. "Listen. You need my name and title when you reach the Viewers, not my magic. I don't plan on blasting anymore Longcoats."

Lou said, "Sure, Princess, we'll just tell 'em that. Maybe they won't shoot at you."

"All right, enough," Cain cut in before DG could muster her own defense. "I don't like the Princess being out here either- makes us all nervous- but she's right, and we'll need her. And, Lou, don't be talking like she doesn't know war. She won the last one pretty handily. So-" he turned to his son- "Jeb- Captain- what're your orders?"

DG looked at Jeb as the others did, and just caught the weary resignation in his eyes before he blinked it away. "Hard riding could have put the Longcoats at the Viewer's village by now," he said, "We've got work to do."

* * *

If he didn't know better, Wyatt would have been convinced that DG was using her magic to cause the nagging itch between his shoulder blades. As it was, he knew it was his own urge to turn around and look at her. Not that he would see her if he did; she was more than half a mile away from him, marching with Jacob Tiery's men in Second Company. He'd initially offered her his horse to ride, and Jacob, ever-chivalrous, had done the same, but she'd refused them both, insisting that war wizards were supposed to remain in the ranks.

For someone who'd come into the O.Z. not knowing her own past, she'd certainly found out a lot about the realm's, he thought crossly.

"She does have a right to be here, Father," Jeb said, and Wyatt started, mentally cursing the fact that he'd been too inattentive to realize his son had pulled up beside him.

"So you're really all right with all this?" he asked skeptically.

Jeb shrugged. "All right with killing Longcoats? All right with rescuing the Consort? All right with getting more firepower on our side? Yes."

Wyatt tensed involuntarily. "You can't expect her to do much fighting, son. I wasn't around to teach you the old stories, but I know them. I know that kind of magic kills the user much as it kills anyone else."

Jeb nodded, but said, "You really think you can stop her?"

Wyatt started to assure him that he could, then reconsidered. This was the girl who'd come charging down a hill to fight Longcoats with a stick. Of course, he couldn't stop her.

"I tried to stop Mother from taking part in resistance work," Jeb said, "but she wasn't having any of it, especially from her own son."

Wyatt laughed shortly. "She wouldn't have."

"Your princess won't either," Jeb said. "Not even for you…" And as he said it, he looked distant and sad in a way Wyatt never wanted his boy to look.

"You lost someone," he stated more than asked.

Jeb nodded. "Just after I took command… We're supplied well enough right now, and able to hunt for food when it's needed. Back then, we weren't so lucky. So Tess came up with this plan to attack one of the Longcoat outposts, steal what we could find. I said I wouldn't allow it, but she took her squad anyhow."

Wyatt knew enough about what the Longcoats did to women from the resistance that he didn't press his son for details.

"After that, I tried to make all the female troops leave, go into hiding." Jeb's smile was tinged with bitterness at that memory. "A lot of them wouldn't have it, of course-and still won't. Jacob's got three girls playing at being men in his company, and at least two more are under my command."

"And since you haven't turned them back, I don't suppose you can order a princess who's been blessed by the Queen to run on home," Wyatt said.

"Sorry, Father. Not going t-"

A shot rang out, and Jeb's horse pitched forward with an ear-splitting scream. He rolled quickly to avoid being pinned by the dying beast, and Wyatt hauled him to his feet, searching frantically for the shooter. The men around them had dropped down, taking up defensive positions- and just in time to keep from being overrun by a Longcoat charge at their flank.

Lou's cavalry, out of position, had to double back to engage the enemy, and had no advantage while the Longcoat snipers kept to the high ground and rained bullets down on the horses.

Wyatt took a shot at a man who was running to attack his son, and cursed himself for not anticipating trouble. He called out to his men to aim at the enemy in the hills, try to give the cavalry some relief. He dimly heard Jacob pulling his company back- getting the Princess out of the line of fire, and putting his men in position to break the charge.

A low kick caught him off guard, and he staggered. A Longcoat rushed him, thick hands grasping for his throat. He hurriedly got his arm up and hit his attacker with the butt of his pistol. The man crumpled.

"Father!" Jeb shouted. "On the cliff! Hurry!" He had his rifle aimed at someone on the rocky high ground, and was firing successive shots as fast as he could.

At Zero.

Wyatt took off running, looking for a way to get to his old enemy. A few of his men rallied about him, clearing a path through the Longcoat lines. One by one, they fell, but Wyatt kept running. He scrambled over the rocks, and up to the ground the Longcoats had attacked from. Two shots took out two of their commanders, then he was forced to fall to the ground the bullets started to come his way.

Zero strode toward him, gun drawn, and Wyatt was struck by the wild look in his eyes. The man had always been calculating and cold-hearted, but this… This was Zero, driven mad.

And he was laughing. "Wyatt Cain. I knew we'd meet again."

Wyatt got to his feet, matching the other man's stance. "Don't count on it again," he said, taking aim at Zero's heart.

The other man stopped laughing, but a twisted smile never left his face. He indicated his own pistol. "You're not one to talk." But rather than fire the weapon, he lept forward and threw Wyatt down in a bruising tackle.

Wyatt's breath was knocked from his body as he hit the ground, and his gun went flying from his grasp. He kicked out, gasping, trying to get Zero's weight off him.

"Beg," the man hissed, sour breath in Wyatt's face. "You should beg for mercy."

Wyatt got an arm free, and threw a punch into Zero's nose. He felt the cartilage snap with the impact, and blood gushed over his fingers, and shoved the man backwards. They both scrambled to their feet, and Wyatt's heart sank when Zero came up with his pistol aimed once more.

He glanced toward his own weapon, feet away, and knew he'd never get to it. He settled for using his mouth instead, "Always thought you'd look better if that nose got busted up one more time."

Zero wiped the blood away with his free hand. "And I always thought you'd look better as a corpse."

"Go ahead, then." Below, Wyatt could hear the men cheering, and let his own grim smile show. "Killing me won't stop the Queen's Army. Yours, though, sounds like it's running again."

"No need for them to stay here," Zero answered carelessly. "When they have much more… pressing… things to do in the Viewer's Village."

Wyatt matched his lack of concern. "And they'll run from there, too, when they hear us coming. Can't expect them to stand and fight if they're led by a coward, after all."

Zero laughed again. "Words, Cain. I prefer to act-"

Wyatt braced himself for the killing shot, but Zero shifted his aim- low and right-

At Jeb.

Jeb, whose wounded arm kept him from bringing his rifle up to fire first, whose body jolted with the bullet's impact.

Wyatt screamed, low and raw, rushing toward his son. He didn't know if Zero was still there. He didn't care. He had to get to his boy.

Jeb staggered towards him, caught himself, stared down at the redness soaking his shirt…

And fell.


	12. Beyond All Power

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Beyond All Powe

Warnings: There's a war on...

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. The army reaches a turning point or a breaking point.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

* * *

DG was dimly aware that the battle was over. The shooting had stopped, and the cheering, and all that was left was the shuffle of booted feet as the men slowly reassembled. She was eye-level with those feet, her cheek pressed into the dirt. She pushed herself up to her knees and fought down a wave of dizziness, trying to get her bearings.

Someone was shouting, "Princess! Princess Dorothy!" and then Jacob Tiery was beside her, helping her stand and roughly turning her about. She could feel his hands running over her hair, her face, her neck, and she tried to pull away- but something in her muddled brain told her he was checking her for injuries.

"Thank the gods you live, Princess," he said, sounding oddly breathless.

She meant to ask him if he was all right, but what came out was, "I... fell down."

"And got a little rattled, too, by the looks of it, but that's nothing that'll last long."

The relief in his voice was palpable, and DG realized- startlingly- that he'd feared for her life because she was his princess. The world abruptly titled out of focus, and she felt him steady her.

"Easy, now. It's a rough thing to come through battle no matter how minor your injuries."

"I didn't even fight," she answered dully, staring down at her hands. "I just fell."

"Your Highness lived. That's th-"

"Captain Tiery!" A high, frantic shout drowned out whatever Jacob had been meaning to say. "Captain Tiery! Captain Tiery!"

One of their younger fighters came rushing toward them as fast as he was able, and the look on his face was inexplicably fearful. DG felt Jacob shift one arm so that he could catch the boy by the shoulder and hold him still.

"I'm right here, soldier-" and there was a slight emphasis on the title- "Calm down now. What is it?

"Y-you need to come, sir. Captain Cain- he's- Liese told me to-"

At the sound of Cain's name, DG's vision wavered dizzily again. Was it her Cain, or was it his son? Did it matter? Was he dead? She grabbed Jacob's hand before he got out of reach. "I'm coming with you."

"Then you'd better run."

* * *

Wyatt's throat had been scraped raw from pleading with his son. The twin holes in Jeb's abdomen and lower back had bled freely for too long, staining every bandage and rag Liese pressed over them a dark, terrible red- and there'd been nothing to do but beg the boy to hold on. He knew DG was beside him- could practically hear her mind working, trying to figure out if there was anything she could do to fix this. But he'd served the Mystic Man long enough to know she couldn't. Magic could bleed, and drain, and move, and take-

But it couldn't give.

Before he could stop it, a low cry escaped him. His son, who'd been lost for so long, was barely holding on to life, and not even the most powerful woman in the realm could save him. DG's hand was on his shoulder- a comfort, an apology. She'd done that when he'd knelt at Adora's grave, too, but he didn't pull away this time. He didn't have the strength.

"Liese." That was Jacob's voice, taut and controlled in the way Wyatt knew his own wouldn't be. "What can be done? What do you need?"

"Time and a prayer, sir," came the grim answer. "He may pull through with that."

"He needs a doctor," said DG. "Wait, no- he needs the Viewers! We've got to go ask them for help!" The hope in her voice made Wyatt feel like breaking, but it faded when she met his eyes. "The Longcoats," she remembered, "they're already there."

"We'll fight them, Your Highness," said Jacob. "We were going to fight them for your father anyhow."

Jeb groaned and tried to roll onto his back, eyes fluttering as the pain brought him near waking. Wyatt held him by the shoulders, murmuring comforts as if his son was still a child who'd just had a nightmare. Liese crouched beside them with a canteen, tipped the contents into Jeb's mouth, and rubbed his throat until he swallowed. Wyatt caught the scent of sedative herbs the healers in the resistance had used after medicine grew scarce. Jeb stilled as they took effect, sliding back into the deep unconsciousness that looked all too much like death.

"I need more supplies," Liese murmured. He grabbed his bags and his gun and headed off into the woods.

Wyatt shook off the numbing shock that had started to settle over him. "Jacob," he said, wishing the other captain didn't look so stricken just then, "you'll need to go to work now, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir." Jacob lifted his eyes from Jeb's too-still form and squared his shoulders. "It was Zero who did this?"

Wyatt nodded, ignoring DG's startled little gasp. "How'd you figure it out?"

"We figured he'd be found when the Longcoats marched south. And taking Jeb down this way… This is something he would do."

"He had me dead to rights," Wyatt said. "He had me, and he still took my son." He swiped angrily at his eyes, telling himself to hold it together. "Jacob, you find a way to change this thing. Whatever it takes. Go on."

"Hey, wait!" DG cut in. "Don't order him off, Cain. He's Jeb's friend, and-"

"The Queen's Army must have a commander, Your Highness." Jacob looked as if he would rather do anything else but take Jeb's place, but there was nothing for it.

Wyatt reached out to clap him on the shoulder. "Go on," he repeated. "Take D- Princess Dorothy with you."

DG looked like she was about to protest that, too, but he fixed her with look that was half order and half plea, willing her to understand that he needed her to go. She swallowed whatever she'd planned to say, and allowed Jacob to pull her to her feet and escort her away.

After they'd gone, and the silence stretched, Wyatt grasped his son's hand, bowed his head, and just… cried.

* * *

Ahamo's legs ached and trembled, but there was no room for him to lie down. They'd thrown him in a hole just wide enough to contain him and poured water in after. It slicked the walls and kept his feet in mud and muck. How long had it been now? A day? Two?

"There's no one coming for you."

Ahamo squinted up at the source of the voice- the Longcoat guard standing above his prison hole, smirking down through the wooden slats. They always kept someone there to taunt him, despite how little chance he had for escape. That was meant to break him down, of course. His torture would be drawn out because the Longcoats had no true need of information. They'd already forced a Viewer to flay his mind open, revealing everything they might find useful. What they did now was solely to make him suffer.

The guard kicked dirt and gravel down on him. "I said no one's coming for you. The General's set his trap… I can almost hear the screams now."

"Your general is weak," Ahamo slurred. His face was swollen where they'd struck him and it was difficult to speak.

The guard swore and kicked at the ground again. Ahamo hastily shielded his eyes from the shower of dirt, cursing under his breath. He'd known men to lose their sight from the cut of dust and grime, and he should have known better than to invite it. It'd been bad form, taunting the Longcoat when it would only make the situation worse.

Luck was on his side, however. There was a harsh shout, and another, and the guard above his hole swore ferociously and vanished. Ahamo listened to the sound of his booted feet fade into the distance, then let out a slow breath. Something had gone badly, it seemed, and he was glad of it.

He leaned against the muddy wall of his confines, trying to gather his strength. If his present circumstances were the measure, the first major push of the war was not going well. The blessing, he told himself, was that the Longcoats had made no mention of his daughter. DG was still out there, and if the Queen's Army was as close as his guard's words indicated, it was likely Jeb Cain had found her.

Ahamo knew he could survive, once again, until she found him.

* * *

DG could feel Jacob shaking as he led her across the battlefield, but she knew the slight tremors along their joined arms would be the only indication of whatever he was feeling. There was an army to command and he was forcing himself to command it, watching stonily as his men reassembled. He'd ordered some of them to bury the dead, but not before looting the corpses for food, ammunition, weapons- even boots and jackets. DG couldn't quite suppress a shudder at the callousness.

Jacob evidently noticed it. "Warfare makes scavengers of us all, Your Highness."

"Yeah, I- I know that. It's just-" DG stopped, swallowing hard. "It's all right."

"Your face gives you away as a liar," Jacob said, "but it's to be expected. You've not seen much of war... And such things should be repulsive."

"I know it has to be done, though."

"As do a great many other things." Jacob sighed and rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension. "Princess, I have no right to ask, but I have to know if you can fight in our next battle."

DG looked at her hands, remembering the force she'd flung from them when the Longcoats chased her and her father down, and remembering how she'd felt after using so much of her magic. "Yes," she said. "What will I have to do?"


	13. Grace and Gravity

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Grace and Gravity

Warnings: Angst like nobody's business

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. Celebration at home, desperation in the field.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

A/N: Thanks, everyone, who's stuck with this story. I can't believe I've been working on it for a year! I wish I were as prolific as other authors, but life (grad school, mostly, but sometimes life) really does get in the way. It's so cool that you're still reading and reviewing; I really am grateful for that!

* * *

Lavender had thought the day would never come when she and her eldest daughter would descend a staircase together to be received by their people. Even though they walked into the patched up ruins of their summer palace, clad in peasant garb instead of royal raiment, she felt tears of joy prickle her eyes.

Finaqua's citizens had seen Azkadellia, so scared and scarred by her possession, go out from the palace and take the blight from the fields. They knew she had saved their lives in doing so, and their fear of her had been overlaid with gratitude. Some of the farmers, her sworn loyalists now, even got up the courage to step forward in hopes she would acknowledge them, and the looks on their faces were of admiration, and love, love!

Lavender noticed her daughter's hesitance to respond- her instinct to draw back and hide- and murmured, "Act with grace, my Azkadellia."

Dutifully, Az squared her shoulders and approached the small group of men. The customary thing would have been for her to let them to kiss her fingertips, but she clasped hands with them instead, in the way Jeb Cain's resistance men had frequently greeted one another. When the war ended, Lavender thought, she would have to thank the Cain men for the lack of ceremony with which they had treated her daughters. She gave Azkadellia an approving smile and duplicated the gesture herself as she made her own way through the crowd.

"Your Majesty," someone called.

Lavender realized it was one of the women who had cried out against her because she'd still had her family at her side when the first news about the war arrived. But now the woman squeezed her hand in apology. "Greetings in your time of waiting, Your Majesty."

"And you in yours," Lavender replied, smiling to show that all was forgiven. "Let us dine together."

There was no table in the dining hall any longer, but Cecily Tiery stood just right of where it would have been, giving a smiling welcome to all who arrived. For a moment, Lavender thought back to another meal, the formal banquet to which Cecily's father, Lord Devon, had arrived late and disheveled to joyfully announce the birth of his son. What would he have said today, she wondered, with his son at war and his last daughter at court?

Cecily's voice interrupted that musing: "I find it most fitting that throughout our history a meal has been our way of celebrating. The meal itself is what we celebrate today- and, with it, our survival- so, please, eat it heartily."

Her statement with greeted with applause and chorused affirmations. Then a number of women began bringing out bowls of vegetables, fruits, and bread, and the other two ladies-in-waiting poured water into roughly-fashioned mugs.

Lavender caught Cecily's eye and offered her a silent toast. As she brought her arm down, a familiar hand grasped her elbow.

"Your Majesty," Ambrose said as he sat down cross-legged at her side. "I wish I didn't have to take up this place again."

He meant Ahamo's place, of course, because it should have been her husband beside her- just as it should have been for all the annuals Ahamo had spent in hiding. Lavender smiled sadly. "You remember."

Ambrose nodded. "Mmm. Sometimes. I'm also glad to be here."

She frowned at the sudden contradiction. "Yes?"

"You looked like you needed me." Ambrose glanced past her, and added, "So does someone else. Shiloh! You're late! Sit here. We never finished discussing the Ozian Age of Invention."

"Your time with Raw has improved your recollections," Lavender said, glancing down the hall at the Viewer, who was timidly perched amongst some of Finaqua's children.

Ambrose, however, wasn't listening. He was still beckoning to a young man on crutches- the one who taught daily lessons in the camp, Lavender recognized- with little success. "Come along! I insist! I insist! Plenty of room between me and Lady Cecily here!"

Lavender took notice of Cecily's blush and understood. She was about to speak, to more tactfully invite the teacher to be seated, but her daughter beat her to it.

"Do come, Shiloh," Azkadellia called encouragingly- and in the strongest voice she'd used in months. "Allow me to make you known to my mother."

And how the prospect of being introduced to the Queen was less frightening than sitting down beside a lady who clearly wanted him there, Lavender didn't know- but she smothered her amusement and extended her hand. "Teacher. It seems I am the last to make your acquaintance."

"It is an honor that you would make it at all, Your Majesty," Shiloh replied, slowly lowering himself- with Cecily's help- into a sitting position. He grimaced at his own clumsiness, and Lavender sought to put him at ease.

"Nonsense," she said gently. "We are all as equals now, despite what trappings of court are necessary. And I would hope to know anyone who calls my daughter friend." She saw Azkadellia's head come up at that, saw her slow smile, and thought- perhaps- this was one more victory to celebrate.

* * *

Jeb's face was wax-white, except for the flush of fever along his cheekbones-

"Sir?"

His eyes were half-open, though sightless, and he was mumbling orders as if he was still on the battlefield-

"Captain Cain?"

That was what being gut-shot did to a man. Even if the bullet went clear through, didn't hit the spine, it was dangerous. Tore things up inside-

"Captain Cain, sir?"

Wyatt lifted his head and gave Liese an annoyed stare. "One title or the other is enough. What?"

"Coffee, sir," Liese answered, proffering a small tin mug. "Not much, but it's strong and hot, and I thought you'd need it."

Wyatt let out a long breath, feeling his temper fade with it. He took the coffee with a grateful nod. "Figured you'd come to say I need to rest, not to give me this."

Liese shrugged. "Body knows when it's been awake all night and more, sir. No point in telling a man what he already knows." He knelt down at Jeb's side and pulled out a canteen. Carefully, he lifted Jeb's head and poured a small bit of water into his mouth.

Jeb swallowed weakly, and his slitted eyes opened a bit wider. "Waa…" He tried to grab at the canteen as Liese pulled it away. "'s… need... mo…"

Wyatt dropped his coffee and grabbed one of his son's hands. "Jeb? You want more water?" He looked desperately to Liese. "That's good, isn't it? That he wants more?"

Liese nodded and allowed Jeb another few mouthfuls from the canteen. "You have to drink slow and easy, Captain. Your body can't take much right now, you hear me?"

"Uh hmm." Jeb fell back, unable to keep his head up any longer. "Fa'her," he slurred. "G… go now."

"Go where, son?" Wyatt asked, frowning. "What do you need?" But Jeb had lost his grip on consciousness.

"I wouldn't think on it much, sir," Liese said as he put a hand on Jeb's forehead. "Fever's addling his mind."

"Right." Wyatt shut his mouth on the lump that rose in his throat. Fever meant the wound was infected, meant that it was deadly- and no telling when it'd take that turn. He sat back and picked up his forgotten coffee. "You get some of this for yourself?"

"Yessir. But-" Liese started to say more, stopped, ran his hands back through his hair, and tried again, "Sir… I can't bring his fever down."

Wyatt kept himself from flinching, but only just. "If you could've, you'd have done it already."

"Of course, sir, but…" Liese hesitated. "You need to know that if his fever rises-"

"I do know," Wyatt interrupted. He'd seen what wounds like this did to men, and wasn't about to think on it happening to his son.

Liese still tried to continue, "Sir, I-"

"No!" Wyatt didn't expect the sudden anger in his own tone, but he kept going anyhow. "We'll get Jeb to the Viewers before he gets worse, Liese. And we'll get there quicker if you get back to doing what you know instead of talking stupidity with me."

That made the younger man draw back. "Yes, sir… I'll go and see what Captain Tiery needs for demolitions, then."

"Yeah. You do that." Wyatt didn't watch him go; his focus was entirely on his son.

* * *

Azkadellia was smiling, but she was tired. There were so many eyes on her, so many people trying to figure out what to think. She could read the changing, warring emotions in their features. It made her head ache, but she was smiling because they were looking at her. Even if there were too many, they were looking at her. Seeing her. Not the Witch.

And some people were singing with a lone piper to accompany them. She'd forgotten that she'd loved music once. She wondered what else she'd come to find out as time went on. What else did she- she, Azkadellia, herself- enjoy?

The song ended, and the piper took up a new tune.

Ambrose brightened and spoke through a mouthful of bread, "I know this song!"

Azkadellia couldn't help the little gasp that escaped her when Ambrose grabbed her mother by the hands and pulled her up to dance like he'd been doing it for annuals. He had been doing it for annuals. Because Father had been gone before and he was gone again- and Az had to fight down the anger she felt towards DG for taking him this time.

She kept smiling.

One of the lieutenants in the guard approached and asked Cecily to dance. It was bold of him, but she readily agreed and let him lead her off. Azkadellia glanced at Shiloh, wondering why he didn't object, but her eyes fell on his crutches and she understood.

He couldn't object to Cecily dancing anymore than she could to DG going to the war.

He caught her gaze and gave her a rueful look. "The ladies at court are duty-bound to entertain, of course."

"But-" Az began, though she didn't know how to finish without being hurtful.

Shiloh did it for her. "But don't I wish I could dance with her myself? Aren't I angry that my own body has failed me?" He shrugged. "Yes, of course, Your Highness. Terribly so, at times."

"I'm angry that my mother cannot dance with her husband," Az said. She knew it was selfish to turn the focus back to her troubles. She was angry and selfish, and it felt all too much like the Witch, but she couldn't help it.

Shiloh said, "I suspect you've a right to feel so, Your Highness. Your family was long apart." He looked at her closely. "Has no one told you that? That you've a right?"

She shook her head. Of course no one had told her that, not when they thought her anger was the Witch's- and they all knew how terrible that was.

"Well, then-" Shiloh shrugged again- "be angry, Your Highness, so that it doesn't fester. It's best for everyone that way."

Azkadellia nodded, filing his point away for the future. "Magic cannot heal, you know." She thought she would have healed his legs and let him dance if she could.

He took a moment to catch her meaning, then ducked his head. "Yes, Your Highness, I do know that."

She waved at the crowds of people. "They all say I healed the crops, but I didn't heal… Magic draws out poison or blight the same way it draws out life. It's a wicked power. Never meant to be used for any goodness."

"I'm told its use is up to the one who wields it, Your Highness," Shiloh said. "And that to use it for the good is the greatest triumph over the witches who bent it to evil."

* * *

Waiting, DG was learning, was a large part of war. The army was making ready all around her, but there was nothing she could do except stay out of their way. She hadn't expected, when she'd headed for the secluded corner where the wounded lay under guard, that she'd find the redheaded captain- Lou, that was his name- pacing back and forth on the perimeter. "Is everything okay?" she called to him.

"Hasn't been anything okay for annuals, Princess."

"Right, yeah." She guessed she should've expected that. "I just meant I thought you'd be out with the cavalry by now."

"I came to give my regards to the captain before I saddled up," Lou explained, "but Liese wouldn't even let me near him. Said Jeb's likely to catch his death of infection as it is, and that all the dirt and grime on me wouldn't help."

DG twisted her hands anxiously. "We need to get to the Viewers. Why aren't we moving faster?"

"Because we'll all die, too, if we're careless," Lou snapped. He shook his head and pushed past her. "I need to see to my men, Your Highness. Keep going if you want to, but don't be surprised if you can't get through."

She watched him walk off, then returned to her own route. She expected Liese to confront her until she spotted him sprawled bonelessly at the foot of a tree. He was surrounded by his weapons and his medical supplies, and how hadn't she thought about the contrast before? She tiptoed past him and knelt down next to Cain, following his gaze toward Jeb, to the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed- too slow, too weak, too shallow.

"The army's getting ready," she said, and she didn't know which man she was speaking to. "Jacob has a good plan, I think. At least, none of the others said it wasn't, so..."

"A soldier doesn't question the man in command," Cain said flatly. "Did you come because he needs something?"

DG shook her head. "No. I just-"

"Then what do you want?"

"I came to say goodbye."

She expected him to be angry, but it was anguish in the look that he turned on her. "Princess- no, DG- tell me you didn't. Please."

"Didn't what?" She forced as much strength into her voice as she could muster. "Jacob's taking us into battle. and you just told me a soldier doesn't question the man in command. Plus, I'm needed, Cain."

But Cain was shaking his head, taking off his hat, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "No. No. I'll- I'll tell him to think of something else. Jeb would never-" and as he said his son's name, he looked back, and froze.

"Jeb wouldn't," DG agreed. "But Jacob has to." She grabbed both his arms and made him face her. The pain in his eyes was almost enough to make her waver, but she drew a deep breath to build her resolve. "So I'm going."

Something broke, then- she saw it in Cain's face. "Damn it, DG! I can't have anyone else dying on me!" He looked as shocked as she felt, that he'd actually said it, but he plowed on, "First Adora… Now Jeb's lying here…" He squeezed his eyes shut, briefly. "I'm losing my son. Not you, too. Not you."

"Oh, Cain…" DG hugged him hard. "I wish it wasn't like this."

"Not you, too," he repeated, turning so that their foreheads touched. "Not you."

She stayed that way a moment longer, then drew back, thinking on something her father had told her on their journey: "It's got to be me... and you've got to let me go."


	14. Revelations

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Revelations

Warnings: The usual angst and violence

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. New troubles and new hopes come to light.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

A/N: Thanks, everyone, for reading- and especially for taking the time to review! I know I keep you waiting for the next chapter, so the fact that you keep reading totally rocks.

* * *

The dancing lasted long into the night. Azkadellia didn't know how her mother remained on her feet, twirling about with everyone who asked, except that a Queen had to be strong. She wondered if she would ever learn to be strong like her mother had.

Cecily wasn't that strong. She had stopped dancing after Shiloh pulled her aside to bid her goodnight. They'd embraced, and parted, and the lady had vanished from the hall. Azkadellia found her alone in the room she shared with the other ladies of the court, lighting the candles in the window.

"There are three candles here," she said.

Cecily turned slightly to acknowledge her and nodded. "One for each of us, Your Highness- and for the men they honor, of course."

There were so many men to honor. Too many. It was good that broken candles were plentiful in the palace- all gathered up during its restoration- or there would not have been enough. Az thought about touching their flames with her magic- she knew DG would have done it- but she couldn't, not now. "Rose and Tara should be tending the candles with you," she said.

"Rose and Tara are still dancing. And that, Your Highness, is where they should be because that is best for them." Task completed, Cecily turned around and smiled. "It's good that the royal ballroom is being so well used."

"You stopped dancing," Az observed.

"Your Highness knows I only started as a courtesy."

She did know that, but- "Rose and Tara are being far more courteous, then."

Cecily looked incredulous for a moment, then laughed. "Yes, Your Highness, I suppose they are. But they are young and lonely, and they need a thing like dancing to remind them that their lives go on, despite this war."

"Your life doesn't go on," Azkadellia stated, drawing an almost immediate protest- which she silenced with a hand. "No. I'm right. I know this. They-" she gestured vaguely back toward the ballroom- "expected you to dance today, to extend that courtesy, because you aren't promised to anyone. Not in open vows. But you should be."

Cecily blushed and ducked her head, but admitted, "Your Highness is right, of course."

Azkadellia already knew she was right. "Your life doesn't go on as if the war wasn't happening. The war stops you."

"It stops me from marrying, Your Highness. It doesn't stop me from loving, which is the more important thing." Cecily smiled softly. "When it is over, and I can marry Shiloh with Jacob's consent…Well. That day will come. Till then, my life does go on- as all our lives do- as best it can."

"I will never marry," Azkadellia said, wrapping her arms around herself as she spoke. "But my life doesn't stop either." She brought her hand up to touch her head, where she'd been brought up knowing a crown would someday rest "Jeb Cain expects me to be Queen."

Cecily should have looked surprised by that, but she didn't. She simply said, "Of course, Your Highness," as though the statement was a given.

Which it was supposed to be.

Crown princesses always became queens.

Of course.

Azkadellia bit her lip. "The OZ has suffered much from my family's follies. From our certainty that nothing could harm us."

"The harm the Witch did is not your fault, Your Highness. All of Finaqua has surely seen that now."

They had seen that, Az knew, but it mattered little. "I will never marry, and the O.Z. is too fragile for an unmarried Queen."

Understanding dawned abruptly on Cecily's face. "Because you will have no heir," she said. "But there's no failure in that, Your Highness. Your sister would take the crown after you, surely." She was so certain that DG would marry and bear children to carry on their house. She'd forgotten the thing that was most important.

"My sister is at war, Cecily."

And the war stopped lives.

* * *

DG's magic flung bullets to the ground before they could reach their intended targets, but the Longcoats had learned to expect it over the course of the battle. They had another row of riflemen ready before her head stopped reeling, and she staggered back toward the cover of the tree line, but she couldn't breathe. The smoke was too thick. The battle had gone on too long.

A series of mortar blasts to her left made her shriek, and she felt herself falling- no, Jacob was pulling her down, protecting her from the shrapnel that flew over them.

There was another explosion, a horse's scream, and Lou shouted from somewhere, "Steady, damnit! Hold them!"

DG felt like the horses, ready to bolt from the noise and the gore.

Jacob rolled to his feet, hauling her upright with him and shouting for his men to charge. He tore his arm from her grasp and brought his rifle up, firing at a group of Longcoats that were heading for the disorganized cavalry. As he reloaded, he demanded, "Princess! Can you block the next round?"

Just thinking about it made DG's stomach roil, but she nodded anyway. What choice did she have? She saw the flash as the mortars shot out of their tubes, raised her hands-

The mortar shells slammed into the wall of magical energy she threw forward and detonated on impact, showering fiery debris down on the Longcoats who had launched them. The Queen's Army cheered, rallying around their sudden advantage, but DG doubled over and vomited in the dirt. Through blurry eyes she saw Lou's cavalry riding down the survivors of the blast, saw the rest of the army following them into the breach.

And then it was over.

"Put the fire out! And find the prisoner holds!" Jacob ordered. "Princess, come with me. I think I see your father."

That was enough to jolt her into action. She forced her exhausted body to keep moving at his pace- faster, faster. Through the smoke and the hazy morning light, she saw what he was leading her towards: a man bound to a large stake, head down, body hanging limply against the ropes.

But it wasn't her father.

She skidded to a halt, nearly knocking Jacob over in the process, and stared at the ragged figure. His tousled hair was as light as Ahamo's, but he was younger man, broader, and dressed in a torn Longcoat uniform. DG's mind whirled in confusion; it didn't make any sense. Where was her father?

"Sir!" That was Lou, galloping towards them. "We've found the Viewers! The Longcoats had them in pits…" He trailed off, obviously taking in the scene before him. "Dead?"

Jacob nodded. "And no sign of the Consort."

"Damn."

DG felt like crying. "I don't understand! Where'd they take him? Why isn't he here?"

"I don't know, Your Highness." Jacob looked at Lou again. "Are the Viewers willing to help us?"

"Yes, sir, I think so. They want to see the Princess."

"Then they can see me." DG wiped her eyes and turned away from the dead man, knowing they needed to convince the Viewers to help them as quickly as possible.

Lou to led her and Jacob back across the surviving Viewers were huddled close together, and many were crying or clinging to the soldiers who'd saved them. DG saw their eyes turn toward her, and then one of the young ones broke free, shouting, "DG! DG! DG!"

"Kalm!" She cried out, rushing forward to meet him. "Oh, Kalm, I'm so glad you're okay!"

"T-Tutor brought Kalm home... But Longcoats found home. Longcoats made pain."

"Did any of the Longcoats leave? Did Tutor follow them?" DG asked, praying he could tell her something.

Kalm nodded. "There were more, many more. Took the man north, and Tutor followed."

"Most likely to Central City," Jacob said from behind them. "It's a fortified position, and if there was trouble in the Longcoat ranks, then Zero was smart to pull back. We can give him chase, Your Highness, once our business here is done."

DG heard the urgency in his voice and nodded. "Kalm, we need you to come help us. You remember Mr. Cain? His son, Jeb, is hurt very badly."

"Kalm will help." He glanced back at the other Viewers, who had been watching the exchange warily. "Kalm must help. DG and friends saved us."

Reluctantly, it seemed, the older Viewers began nodding.

"They not want Kalm hurt anymore," Kalm whispered in DG's ear. "But Kalm brave. Like Raw."

DG smiled, wishing Raw were there to hear that. "I know."

"We have to move," Jacob said. "I'll get a horse and-"

"Wait, sir," Lou cut in. "Look to the east."

DG turned at the same time Jacob did, and her heart sank. A column of cavalry was bearing down on them fast, rifles glinting in the rising sun. There was no way the battered army would be able to hold them off.

"Can we get a rider out?" Jacob asked lowly.

"Not on a tired horse," Lou said. "But it was a near thing, sir."

"That it was."

They shook hands, and DG realized they both expected to die now. She tried to focus on her magic- knew they might have a chance if she could do it- but sparks danced before her eyes at even the slightest attempt. She gasped in a breath, swallowed hard, and did her best not to think about what was going to happen.

The Longcoats rode slowly, inexorably forward as the Queen's Army formed up to meet them.

Lou muttered, "Get on with it, you bastards."

At last, a lone rider broke from the lines. He passed into firing range and held his arm up, waving a strip of cloth.

Lavender cloth.  


* * *

Wyatt could no longer hear the distant battle. The men around him- the wounded and the ones watching over them- were still straining their ears for some sign of what had happened. It was Liese, who'd stayed behind at the last minute for fear Jeb would die without his care, who finally broke their silence:

"There was mortar fire near dawn. We won't have stood up well to that."

"It's nothing you resistance men haven't faced before," Wyatt said. But it was damnable, not knowing who'd survived the night. Not knowing if DG had survived the night.

Beside him, Jeb stirred restlessly. "Father…"

"Jeb?" Wyatt gripped his son's shoulder. "I'm here. It's all right."

"Father, no… Don't hurt him… Let him go…" Jeb's eyes fluttered wildly, and Wyatt knew what he was seeing.

"I'm all right, son. I'm all right."

"His fever's spiking again," Liese murmured. He swallowed hard, then said, "Sir, you've got to carry him."

"What?" Wyatt demanded. "Carry him where?"

"Down to the brook where we've been getting our water- and hope it's fast and cold enough to drop his temperature." Liese was already moving as he spoke. "Do it now, sir. I'm out of other options."

Wyatt gathered Jeb in his arms, feeling the heat radiating off his son's body. Jeb's head lolled against his shoulder as he followed Liese to the brook.

The other man jumped in without hesitation, saying, "Give him here. Quickly."

Wyatt lowered Jeb into the water so that his upper body was resting against Liese's knees. "Hang on now," he ordered, praying the soldier in his son would listen. "You hang on!"

* * *

The Longcoat- or was he a Longcoat?- stood with his arms raised as two of Jacob's lieutenants searched him for weapons. DG tried not to stare, but her gaze kept being drawn up to the blue eyes that were fixed intently on her. She assumed he knew who she was; she didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"Princess Dorothy," he said, "I didn't think I'd live to stand before you."

DG didn't answer.

"He's clean," one of the lieutenants announced quietly.

The man exhaled and let his arms fall slack at his sides. "You have my word, my men and I mean no harm to you. We'd have surely acted on our earlier advantage if we did."

"It wouldn't be the first time a Longcoat's tried to take us by tricks instead of brute force," Jacob answered. "Though I grant they're not usually that clever."

To DG's relief, the man's gaze shifted, and he smirked. "Indeed. I take it you're in charge?"

"I am."

"Have him speak his peace and be done, sir," Lou said. "Work needs doing."

"Your second is right, of course. So. My name is Kyler Rossi- a second also, though I've had to shoulder the burden of command these past days. I and my men are what you could call the last of the insurgence."

"Insurgence?" DG blurted out, surprised- and judging by the murmurs from the men around her, she wasn't the only one.

"Longcoat lies," someone grumbled, and more voices echoed it.

"I've never heard of any insurgence," Lou said. "Have you, Captain?"

"I haven't," Jacob said, folding his arms.

"Do you think your sticks and stones resistance would have lasted otherwise?" Kyler demanded. "Or do you think it was luck, the Longcoat patrols turning away from your hideouts? The outposts left open to your ambushes? We have aided you for annuals behind the appearance of loyalty!"

"One way to find out if that's true," Jacob said. "Princess, go and get Kalm."

DG's eyes widened, realizing what he was about to do. "Jacob, no. My mother said we wouldn't use the Viewers that way. Even after-" she stopped, then, realizing she shouldn't bring up the attack on her sister. "It isn't right," she insisted.

Jacob turned to one of his men. "Go on. You heard my order."

The soldier jogged away, even as DG looked pleadingly at his back. In her mind, she could see her mother's disapproving face- and her sister's distressed one- but no one else seemed willing to protest Jacob's decision. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that she was a princess, force him call off his plan… but she knew that wouldn't be right either.

"It's all right, Your Highness," Kyler said quietly. "It's what I would do, as well." He turned away from her as Kalm was brought forward, and knelt down so the young Viewer could reach him. "Let's have this done, then."

Shaking with fear- because Kyler was still in Longcoat uniform, after all- Kalm touched the man's temples. Kyler gasped and squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, but he didn't pull away.

"Strong man," Kalm murmured. "Seen much… Much pain."

"Is he on our side?" Jacob asked. "Did he tell the truth about that?"

Kalm frowned, searching for an answer- and DG hardly dared to breathe while he did it- and then he nodded. "Had to hide… Good man. Had to hide that."

The Viewer drew back, leaving Kyler shuddering. "Gods," he managed as DG helped him to his feet, "I knew it was rough to be read by a Viewer, but…" He dragged a sleeve over his eyes and looked to Jacob. "Well. You have your answer now. May I make a request?"

Jacob nodded. "Of course."

"We tried to take Zero down after the last fight with your people," Kyler said, "but instead we were forced to fall back. You'll have seen my captain, Davin, who didn't make it... Let me cut him down and give him a proper burial."

DG glanced back toward the village even though the stake where the dead man was bound was well beyond her sight.

"Bury your captain," Jacob said, "and lend my men and I fresh horses so that we don't have to bury ours."

"Yours…" Kyler looked startled, then barked a laugh. "I thought you were like me, a second who'd been promoted by the battlefield. Gods, I hope I'm there when Zero realizes that Jeb Cain's still alive. Go, by all means, make sure of it."

Jacob smiled grimly and shook hands. "Thank you."

* * *

There was a stab of pain, white hot, making him gasp for breath.

Then, as suddenly as it had come on, it was gone. He inhaled deeply, feeling the strength returning to his body, alongside the memory of what had happened to him. His hands flew to his stomach-

And touched nothing but smooth skin.

"Jeb?"

He pried his eyes open, squinting in the morning light, and all at once he was lifted up and enveloped in his father's arms.

"Jeb, Jeb. Oh, gods, son, I thought I'd lost you…"

Jeb brought his own arms up and returned the embrace, feeling his father's tears wet against his neck. "I'm all right," he said hoarsely. His mind hadn't caught up to how that'd come to be, but it didn't matter. "Father, I'm all right."


	15. Turning Points

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Turning Points

Warnings: The usual angst and violence

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. Things begin to change.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

A/N: Finally! It's back! And with some fluff, promise! Enjoy it!

* * *

DG sat on a large rock with her head against her knees, trying to ignore everything that was going on around her. Lou had been left in charge, so she didn't have to pay attention. And anyway, the men were quiet, clearing the battlefield and burying the dead, and waiting... Everyone was waiting. It was even worse than waiting to march into battle had been. It felt like her stomach was tearing itself apart, hoping for a sign that Jacob had gotten Kalm to camp, that Jeb had survived, that Cain was-

"Princess Dorothy?"

Kyler's low voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She wasn't sure when he'd come to her side, but she looked at him now, face and hands still streaked with dirt from burial detail, and she found she couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said lamely. "That you lost your captain."

Kyler was silent for a long moment. Then he answered, "He would be glad to know we've found another, Your Highness."

DG knew he was saying it to reassure her that Jeb was alive and returning to captain all of them soon, but she couldn't stop worrying that it wouldn't turn out that way- and she'd have to figure out what to do next. She couldn't go home, not without her father, but she didn't know if she could stay with the Queen's Army either. She was sure that Cain would beg her not to. He'd already said it: he couldn't lose her, too.

Kyler spoke again, "My men and I are through with our duties. A handful of them found some of your soldiers- I mean, Your Highness' soldiers-"

DG's frayed nerves couldn't take the deference any longer. "Won't anyone stop with the titles? My name is DG. Just DG."

To her surprise, Kyler laughed. "Begging Your Highness' pardon, but find me anyone on this field who wanted the titles life's put on them." He waved a hand to indicate the men. "Soldier. Rebel. Traitor. Loyalist." He drew the hand back and tapped it against his own chest. "Captain. Sure, I've felt like shouting that one away myself."

Deflated, DG wrapped her arms around her knees again, and mentally willed him to go away.

But Kyler kept speaking as if he hadn't been interrupted, "Some of Your Highness' soldiers grew up in the same town as mine, played together as boys. It pleased me to see them reunited here. Might be there's some hope for the O.Z. yet."

DG didn't know what she was supposed to say to that, but a shout from the village saved her from needing a response:

"Riders! Riders! Captain Cain's alive!"

With a jubilant roar, the men abandoned their work and rushed to meet the approaching horses. DG bolted up, and, without thinking, grabbed Kyler by the arm and pulled him along with her as she ran to join the crowd. Jeb Cain rode into their midst, leaning down from the saddle to clasp hands with his men, and she thought he looked like an olden day general that way... until Lou came barreling forward with a loud whoop and very nearly pulled him down. DG watched them together, laughing and shouting for Jacob to join them. Then a strong pair of arms went around her waist, and everything spun out of focus.

Cain twirled her around once, twice and then set her down, whispering his thanks against her hair. DG shut her eyes and clung to him, thanking everything she could think of that he was there, that everything was all right. When she drew back she saw that Jeb was watching her, smiling, and she launched herself at him without a second thought.

He caught her in a one-armed hug and chuckled, "Good to see you again, too, Princess." Then he turned to acknowledge the Viewers as they came forward to collect Kalm, thanking them for what they had done for him. "Today," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Today is ours."

DG thought the cheer that went up at that would shake the entire O.Z.

Jeb's eyes must have fallen on Kyler because the next thing he said was, "Ours. And our new allies' with us." He slipped his arm from around DG's waist and reached out to shake hands with the other captain.

"And it's a damned fine day," Kyler said, grinning.

"This army will go now," one of the Viewers said, drawing everyone's attention.

Jeb frowned. "Your village and your fields have taken damage. Let us finish helping you make repairs. We owe you that."

"Yes," the Viewer said, nodding. "But then go."

DG started to protest, then shut herself up because no one else was joining in, and she didn't understand. She'd come all this way, her father had been kidnapped, Jeb had almost been killed, and-

"Princess," Jeb said lowly, "look around. The Longcoats almost wiped them out. You can't order them to give more than they have."

And DG knew he was right. She realized the Viewer hadn't been demanding that they go, but asking- begging, even… because, if she told them they had to come along, they would have to obey her. She'd set out in the first place because that was so, but now she knew she couldn't do it.

"Kalm will go!"

There was a rumble of discontent amongst the Viewers, and Jeb knelt down so that he was at Kalm's height before saying, "I can't let you do that when your people need you. Understand?"

"B-but-" Kalm stammered, looking torn.

DG squeezed her eyes shut- because she wasn't going to cry just for being frustrated- and knelt down as well. "You're already our hero, Kalm. Be theirs now, okay?" She felt a hand- Cain's, she knew- on her shoulder, and heard him murmur something approving in her ear as she stood back up.

The older Viewers took Kalm back into their group, nodding gratefully to her and to Jeb, then shuffled back off toward the remnants of their village.

Jacob spoke into the silence that followed, "Men, get back to work. There's still a war on. Captain Rossi, if you'll call your officers-" he broke off, glancing toward Jeb. "Sorry, sir. With your permission."

"Oh, carry on," Jeb said, smirking. "I may keep you in command if you're going to give orders like that."

"No chance, sir."

DG smiled along with everyone else, but there was a little sigh trying to escape as well. It was time to wait again. The officers would meet and plan their next moves because, like Jacob had said, there was still a war on. She stepped back from their group as Cain stepped forward, looking for somewhere else to go, something of use she could do.

It was Jacob who suddenly stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. "Princess?" he said. "Aren't you coming?"

* * *

As far as Jeb could tell, Kyler Rossi was one hell of a soldier. He recounted the annuals the insurgency had been active within the Longcoat ranks in precise- and impressive- detail, then finished by saying, "My men and I, we're here to join you, Captain Cain, but you're going about this war all wrong."

There was a rumble of discord that Jeb silenced with a look. He folded his arms and regarded Kyler coolly. "That so?"

"Don't let him talk like that, sir," Lou said. "He wouldn't know what he's saying, seeing as he hasn't fought with us till now."

"But I've fought from inside," Kyler countered, "and I know how the Longcoats work, so listen when I tell you that you're playing into Zero's hand."

"So him turning tail after we ran down his men was just a ruse then," Tobian said dryly.

But for Jeb, it had all clicked. "It was a ruse. He's been bleeding our ranks this whole time-" he looked at Kyler for confirmation, saw the acknowledgment in the other man's eyes- "but what's the endgame?"

"Forcing you to launch your offensive on Central City with a reduced force," Kyler said.

"He'd have to put us down to half strength in order to take away our siege capability," Jeb said. "I'll grant we've taken heavy losses, but nowhere near to that."

"But we would have," Jacob spoke up quietly. "If we'd had loyal Longcoats ride down on us instead of these insurgents, they'd have slaughtered us. And you would be dead, too, sir."

Jeb saw his father's expression darken, and knew the blunt statement was true. He hadn't had time to ask for a full account of the battle in the whirlwind that had followed his healing, but the sheer exhaustion in his officers' eyes was proof enough that it had been hard-won.

"I suspect the Princess would have given my men their due, had they tried to cross her," Kyler remarked. "We watched her deal enough hurt to Zero's men throughout that battle."

But DG shook her head. "Not then. I… I couldn't do anymore."

Jeb figured the Princess had fought hard to ensure their victory, and now that he was looking for it, he could see the change in her- the pale cast of her skin, the out-of-place strands of silver in her dark hair. His father saw it, too, if the torn up look in his eyes was any indication.

"It's all right, though," DG said with a weak, watery smile. "We all knew I had to fight."

Jeb gave her a grateful nod because her fighting had saved his life, but he knew they should never have reached the point where there was no other choice. "Less than an annual into this war and we almost lost it all," he said. "Seems like our newcomer is right to point out our errors."

"But, sir-" Lou began, falling silent when Jacob shook his head.

"You and your men have been fighting Longcoats for annuals," Kyler said, sounding less critical than he had at the outset. "You know your work, no doubt of that, but it's made you-"

"Predictable," Jeb finished, glancing around at his captains to make sure the lesson stuck with them. "I think we can all see that."

"So long as you turn the tide now, I'm not one to harp on the past," Kyler answered. "Zero's forces are bound for Central City to secure the Consort-" he broke off as his eyes flicked over to DG. "Forgive us, Your Highness, for failing to rescue him. Had we waited for your army, perhaps, the outcome would have been better."

"Unlikely, given the Longcoat numbers," Jacob cut in. "I, for one, am grateful that you drove the bulk of them off before we struck."

"It does put us back on the chase, though," Tobian said. "Which is exactly what Zero wants, sir."

"But what else can we do?" DG asked. "We have to get my father back."

Reluctantly- because he knew it would be hard for her to take- Jeb said, "We won't be able to get him back unless we have more men, Princess." He looked to Kyler and added, "We're aware the Longcoats aren't the only thing waiting for us in the north. My second has a knack for getting information-" and why Jacob looked ashamed at that, Jeb didn't know- "that's proven useful to us."

"I've learned that about him," Kyler said, smirking. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Far as we know, this so-called Lords' Army is several brigades strong- led by a band of nobles and their personal guards… We figure they went into hiding before the Witch could get them, waited all this time for their moment to come back out. Their ranks are growing as people see this war as a chance to remodel the OZ into something that doesn't include the House of Gale."

DG flinched, and Jeb didn't miss the way his father reached over to squeeze her fingers. It didn't do much to keep the disappointment out of her voice when she said, "So they'll wait for us to take out the Longcoats, then they'll come after us. I get it."

Jeb didn't have anything to offer beyond, "Wish it wasn't so, Your Highness."

Kyler turned to Jacob and said, "I don't suppose it's possible you can stop them?" Then, before anyone could say anything, he added, "I was there when they brought Lord Devon in- and gods forgive us all who couldn't help him. You can call yourself 'Tiery' all you like, but I'll be damned if you're not his son."

Jeb knew he could have kept the conversation from going any further, but Jacob said, "There's no need for secrets among friends. I am his son, but I doubt these Lords In Exile will stop for my sake."

"Which is no news to those of us who have been here from the start," said Lou, "so what's our next move? The way I figure it, we have men from the west and the south, and now these new fellows from Central City. If there's anyone else who might be for us they're going to be in the east."

Jeb nodded. "We'll go to the guildfighters, and beyond- all the way to the coast if we must- then turn and come to Central City from there." He caught his father's approving look, and knew his plan was as sound as it could be.

"There's no promise there's anything in the east that will make a difference," said Kyler. "The Sorceress blasted the cities and took what she wanted from them, kept them from building a resistance like the west was able to do. I can't say for sure what's left, but-" he shrugged- "it might be enough."

"No choice but to find out," Jeb heard his father murmur- more to the princess than anyone.

"East, then," DG said. "Okay."

"I won't order a march until sunrise tomorrow," Jeb decided. "Our men have been pushed too hard these past days, and, Captain Rossi, I assume the same is true of yours."

Kyler straightened at the use of his title. "They could do with the rest, yes, sir. Give us time to figure out where to put them, as well." To DG, he added, "If Your Highness would speak in the Queen's name, we'll take our oaths immediately."

"I, uhm…" DG's face flushed and she dropped her gaze to the ground. "I don't know what to say."

"I do." Jacob climbed to his feet and offered her his hand. "I can teach you, if Your Highness will allow it." Then, he glanced back. "Sir?"

"Go on," Jeb said. He looked to the other captains. "You're all dismissed, as well. See to your men-" he let his gaze stop on his father, who didn't look surprised by it- "Father, you stay."

* * *

Wyatt watched DG walk towards the ranks of insurgents with Jacob at her side- the Princess with her adviser- and he marveled at how far removed she was from the girl who'd come running to fight off Longcoats with a stick. As the other captains drifted away to watch her speak, he let his attention shift to his son, silently thanking the gods- in case he hadn't done it enough- that Jeb was still alive.

Jeb met his gaze and held it, taking a deep breath. "Father."

Wyatt held open his arms. "Come here, son."

They embraced tightly, then drew back to arm's length. Wyatt could see the emotions warring for control in Jeb's eyes, and knew a long talk was coming, but he didn't press for it- simply waited until his boy was ready to speak.

"I think we can turn this," Jeb said at last.

Wyatt nodded.

"But it shouldn't have ever gotten so bad. The ambush, and Zero getting to us both, and me- well-" Jeb shook his head- "and then Jacob taking the Princess into battle. Gods. And, Father, you didn't keep fighting."

That last statement caught Wyatt off guard, and he realized he hadn't followed where his son's thoughts had gone. "What do you mean?"

Jeb ran his fingers back through his hair. "I meant… I told you if you died I'd keep on fighting. That's what you should have done."

The words weren't angry or accusatory, but somehow disappointed. Wyatt remembered that Jeb had told him repeatedly to go during what he'd written off as fever-induced talk, but now he understood it. "But I don't recall making the same promise," he said.

"I know. And, damn it, I wish you had," Jeb answered. "Because I need you to keep fighting, even after I'm gone. The OZ needs you."

Wyatt appreciated that his son would say that, but he shook his head. "You and your people, you're what it needs. You're still young. And when this is over-"

"When this is over, we'll need someone to teach us how to stop," Jeb answered darkly. "Being young doesn't mean we have a future ahead of us. Not us. Some of the boys we have marching with us won't even recognize peace." His gaze dropped to the ground. "Even I've forgotten it, you know."

Wyatt almost reached out to comfort him- almost, but he knew Jeb wouldn't have it. No comfort or apology would be sufficient anyway; the hardness in the boy's eyes, born of so many battles, made that clear enough.

Jeb turned away to watch DG clasp hands with dozens of Kyler's men. "People get so taken with her because she hasn't spent all her annuals at war," he said. "She isn't busted up like we are."

Wyatt nodded absently. "She's brought a lot of people hope."

"You among them," Jeb said. "I can see that. She's something… bright… for you. Maybe she reminds you there's some good in this world. That's why you went with her, after she rescued you. And, Father… it's all right."

"It's what?" Wyatt asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's all right. You caring for her." Jeb shrugged. "Not that you asked."

Wyatt shook his head, feeling out of sorts with the sudden change in their conversation. "When did this become our talk about that?"

Jeb chuckled, but then grew serious again. "She'll need you. And my men and I, we'll need you both. So… it's all right. Just promise me that you'll fight. Please."

Wyatt took a deep breath and blew it out, remembering how it had seemed to crush him when Jeb had fallen, how he hadn't been able to shake the terrible weight that settled over him. "I'll try," he said, and added before his son could protest- "That's all I can do. And you try not to get yourself shot anymore."

Jeb smiled. "Fair enough. Now, let's see about these new men of ours. I'll want enough of them placed under your command to bring your company back up to full strength."

Wyatt nodded, mentally readying himself to go back to the business of war. "Lead the way, son."

* * *

Azkadellia spent the day before the throne, giving her mother a chance for some much-needed rest. The hall was quiet; her only companions were Ambrose and Shiloh- he'd come in after his lessons with the children were over- and both were bent to their work. They'd taken on the Queen's task of recovering what the Witch had taken, writing Ozian heritage onto the precious paper scavenged from the library.

Ozian law had been restored first. Ambrose had done that, and now he was focused on his own field, scribbling scientific theories as fast as he could possibly write them- as if he was worried he would forget them before he could make them permanent. And Azkadellia hated that he feared that, hating knowing what that that knowledge meant to him.

Because her knowing had meant the Witch had known. The Witch had known what to take.

And the Witch had taken so much.

Shiloh worked at a slower pace, carefully recording Ozian history and literature from memory. When Cecily entered the room, his whole face lit up, but she didn't smile. She hardly looked at him.

"What's happened?" Azkadellia asked.

"Your Highness." Cecily dropped a hasty curtsy. "There are two women in the main hall seeking an audience. They have a dispute that needs to be settled."

Azkadellia tried to stop her eyes from widening, but she couldn't do that. "Do they-" she began, cursing the way her voice shook. "Do they know I am here and not my mother?"

Cecily nodded. "They do, Your Highness, and insist the matter must be settled. They know the laws Lord Ambrose so dutifully put to writing empower you to make judgments in the Queen's stead."

"Yes, of course. Power." Azkadellia swallowed hard. She'd managed to use her magic, the power she'd been given, but this… this was the power the people gave to her, to her family. This was the power to rule.

This was the power the Witch had really wanted. And taken.

The Witch had taken so much.

She didn't know if she was ready to take it back.

"There's an opportunity here," Shiloh remarked, keeping his eyes on the ceiling as if he wasn't speaking directly to her.

"Oh, I do hope it's a scientific matter!" Ambrose added, clapping his hands together. "I haven't been able to perform my duty as Lord Adviser in so long!"

He looked so hopeful that Azkadellia wavered. She knew she couldn't refuse him this. She had to give him this. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to look regal- and tried not to think that it might make her look like the Witch. "Very well, Cecily," she said. "Send them in."

* * *

DG sat with her back against a fallen log, watching the army make camp in the fields. Jacob, who'd been ordered off duty some time ago, lay dozing beside her- but he would jerk awake every so often and reach for his rifle, scanning the area for some sign of trouble.

She knew he needed rest- and she needed it, and they all needed it- but she still felt anxious that they weren't on the move. Jeb had found her after she'd sworn in Kyler's men and explained to her again why they couldn't march till morning, and why they had to march east- why the Longcoats would keep the Consort alive in the meantime. She understood, she did, but a part of her still wanted to order the army north as fast as possible to find her father.

"I can hear you thinking, Your Highness," Jacob murmured.

She startled at his voice. "Oh! I thought you were asleep."

He pushed himself up on his elbows and shook his head. "Not until all's quiet, Your Highness."

"I don't think it'll get any quieter." DG looked up as Jeb and Lou approached them and added, "See? Even these two aren't worried."

"We're plenty worried," Lou said, "but we're also damned tired, so someone else can deal with it."

Jacob frowned at that. "Sir, who did you put on-"

"-first watch?" Jeb finished with a smirk. "Toby volunteered for it, along with a few of Kyler Rossi's lieutenants. I'd rather they didn't have to, but they'll manage."

"Hey, Princess, you could order the war off for a few days so all of us could get some rest," Lou suggested.

DG grinned him. "I don't think it works that way."

"Damned shame, too." Lou sprawled in the grass and threw an arm over his face. "Just wake me up when it's over, then."

"It's tempting," Jeb said to Jacob. "We could just leave him."

"You'd miss me," Lou muttered.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't. But the army would never be quiet enough to sneak off, sir."

"You're right." Jeb let himself fall back, resting his arms beneath his head. "Guess we should probably just join him."

Jacob responded with a "Yes, sir" but he didn't lie down again. It was on the tip of DG's tongue to ask him what he thought would go wrong if he closed his eyes. Instead, she finally said, "I could make it a royal order that you get some rest, you know."

Jacob regarded her without humor. "I don't seem to be good at obeying those, Highness."

"What are you talking about?"

"You told me not to have a Viewer read Captain Rossi, but I still did it." He scrubbed his hands over his face and back through his dark hair. "A part of me is glad the Viewers can't spare anyone to march with us because I'd do it again. And that, Your Highness, is… unacceptable."

DG shrugged. "I know you would. It's okay."

At that, he looked faintly incredulous. "Your Highness, we've established that you have much to learn about your position, but I'm certain you know a soldier shouldn't disobey a princess."

"Yeah, Jacob, I got that." DG refrained from telling him how rarely she actually felt like a princess because he was one of the people who always saw her as one. Instead, she said, "But when I showed up, Jeb put me in your company- as a war wizard and all… Aren't I under your command as long as we're on the battlefield? I think that's how it works."

Jacob was silent for a long moment, but DG saw a bit of the tension fade out of his expression. "Thank you, Your Highness," he said at last.

"DG," she corrected pointlessly. "Go to sleep."

He lay down without protest this time. A few moments later, his breathing evened out, and she knew he wouldn't wake for several hours. She thought about getting her own rest- she'd had as little as he had- but she wasn't ready yet. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for… until she saw Cain.

She started to get up so she could walk with him, but he shook his head, moving carefully to sit beside her instead. His eyes were soft as he took in his son and the other two young captains, then refocused on her.

"Hi," she whispered. "I thought you were…" But she trailed off. She didn't know what she'd thought he'd been doing. There had been so much going on, she hadn't been able to keep track of him.

"I-" he paused, swallowed, looked at her a little nervously. "I don't want to spend the night without you."

DG turned so she was curled up against him, feeling his arms go around her. "Okay."


	16. Messages

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Messages

Warnings: The usual angst and violence

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. The Queen's Army marches east, the Crown Princess makes a ruling, and the fate of the Consort becomes known.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

A/N: Finally! It's back! And with some fluff, promise! Enjoy it!

* * *

Lavender watched the sun rise as she braided her silvering hair, feeling unexpectedly refreshed by the rest she'd taken. She hadn't believed a single day off would make a difference, and had been reluctant to hand over her duties even for that amount of time, but she could tell it had been good for her well-being. Ahamo would have said as much, too, if he had been there.

Touching a hand to her heart, the Queen offered a quick prayer to the gods for her husband's safety.

The reports from Finaqua's northern defenses had noted the arrival and departure of a war wizard escorted by the Consort some time ago, but there had been no reliable word of either since. Of course, rumors of all kinds found their way to the palace on the lips of refugees and wounded men who had traveled back through the lines. Some said the Consort was captured, others that he was dead- that Jeb and Wyatt Cain were dead, that they were all dead.

Lavender tried not to dwell on such things, but the technological state they had been reduced to- which demanded that messages be carried by rider when likely none could be spared- was maddening. For the first time since she had pulled the Witch's toxic spell out of young DG, she wished for the energy she had lost in doing so. She would have cast her eyes to every corner of the OZ if she could have survived such a spell.

But what was that quaint phrase Ahamo sometimes used? If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride…

A quiet tap on the door preceded Cecily's entry, and Lavender turned to greet the younger woman, who also waited anxiously for word from the army, with a kind smile. "Lady Cecily, good morning."

"To you as well, Your Majesty," Cecily answered, managing to curtsy and set down a basket of fruit and flatbread at the same time. "I have a message from Princess Azkadellia. She says that she has returned to the throne to finish tending to a matter from yesterday, and that, if it pleases you, she would preside over Finaqua for another day."

"Would she, truly?" Lavender hadn't expected that fragile Azkadellia would to want to shoulder the burden of rule any longer than was necessary, but, then, her daughter was changing, becoming more at ease. "What is this matter she is so eager to see to its end?"

"A dispute between two families about the crops on their allotted lands, Your Majesty." Cecily smiled as she spoke, assuring Lavender that the case was not a weighty one. "The Princess requested that these particular petitioners return today to hear her decision. I believe she wanted time to consider it carefully."

Lavender nodded to indicate she'd heard and silently pondered the lady's words. The farmland that fed the palace and the settlement around it was communal, and food was distributed regularly by the men of Fifth Company, the palace guard. However, refugees who had brought seeds for planting often supplemented their rations with crops grown on the lands they'd been granted. Lavender had seen fit to allow the practice because it buffered the poor harvest, but it did bring its share of troubles as farmers attempted to expand.

"The petitioner is right that her lands have been trespassed," Cecily said. "The Princess had a man go out at dawn and measure the boundary lines to be sure. But the respondent's argument is that a change is necessary in the way land has been distributed."

"Really?" Lavender arched her eyebrows. "For what reason?"

"Your Majesty has given each family that has sought refuge here an equal plot of land, but their numbers are not equal. The respondent has four children to the petitioner's two, and believes she should get a larger share of land in order to feed her larger family."

"But whatever she grows on her own is surplus, since food from the communal fields is given to everyone. I think this is about the power that comes from property rather than a true and practical need for it."

Cecily nodded. "I believe Princess Azkadellia agrees, Your Majesty. Lord Ambrose asked her why she did not rule immediately, and I heard her answer that she wanted a solution that would discourage future attempts of this nature."

Lavender noted the approval in the lady's tone. "You are proud of this."

"Gladdened by it, Your Majesty," Cecily said. "Long annuals have we all waited to see the true Princess, and not the Sorceress, wielding the power to rule."

* * *

DG woke to the sound of distant thunder.

She uncurled slowly, feeling an ache in her limbs that was more than the strain of marches and battles. The magic she'd used during the attack on the Longcoats had demanded her energy, and she'd given it. She thought of her sister, hoarding whatever the Witch hadn't stolen from her, and their mother, who could give no more.

How much more could she give?

She rolled over, found Cain awake and watching her, and prayed- to God, to the Ozian gods, to the gray sky above them- that she had enough of the Gale light to make it through the rest of the war and whatever life lay beyond it… at least, for a little while.

"Not sure I like the look on your face," Cain said, reaching out to brush the hair back from her eyes. "You know, the army's not ready to move out yet. You could rest a while longer."

"But you can't." DG could see from where she was lying that nearly everyone was up and about already, going through whatever preparations were needed for the march. She pushed herself to her feet and added, "I'm sure your men are going to need you."

Cain stood with her, saying, "My men are still handling supplies. Having Kyler's men to fill two more companies is welcome strength, but our newcomers weren't provisioned for a long march like we were."

"Can we make it as far as we have to go?" DG asked. Everything had seemed so definite only a day ago, but the enormity of what they had to do in order to rescue her father was starting to sink in. "I mean, we wouldn't do it if we couldn't, right?"

"Jeb thinks we can," Cain said. "He and Jacob are hammering out the specifics over breakfast if you'd like to join them."

DG nodded and took his offered arm. For a moment they walked in silence, then she said, "Do you think we'll run into the Longcoats again?"

She felt him shrug. "Longcoats, Lords' Army, both... It'd be foolish not to anticipate something. That's why Jeb had Kyler's men mixed into companies with ours instead of keeping them separate. He didn't want a large part of our force untrained and unused to how we do things."

"That makes sense," DG said, aware she would've never even thought about it. There was still so much she didn't know, which was why she wanted to hear more of what Jeb and Jacob were planning. She knew she had to learn from them.

They had their heads bent to separate work when she and Cain approached them. Jeb was studying a map that had probably come from the Viewers, and Jacob was hunched over a bit of paper with charcoal in his hand. There was a plate of eggs and bacon between them, and Jeb handed her a crude fork, saying, "Help yourself, Highness" without looking up.

"It'll be a long time before we get food like this again," Jacob said, glancing at the dark sky overhead.

Cain was doing the same thing. "I don't suppose you've found a route that'll take us to the guildfighters faster."

"Not without bringing us out into the open," Jeb said, "but our men know how to move quickly, even the new ones, and they all have good officers to lead them. I had Kyler take over Ollie's place in Sixth, and elevated two insurgent lieutenants to captains for Ninth and Tenth."

"They know their work," Jacob added. "We'd have a lot more to worry about if they didn't."

"And that's the most charitable thing he's said all morning," Jeb said, chuckling. "Princess, remind me to speak of such matters in your presence more often."

DG frowned. "What's on your mind, Jacob?"

She was pretty sure he would have kept his concerns to himself if she hadn't been his princess, but, after an apologetic glance at Jeb, he said, "Poor weather treats even the best army poorly, Your Highness, and we're an army with new men, untried officers, and a long march ahead. It isn't going to be an easy thing to get through."

"Doesn't change what needs doing," Jeb said. "Unless the Princess can magic us all to the east in an instant."

DG tried to laugh because she knew he didn't mean it, but the idea of using so much power still sent a sickening jolt through her stomach. She leaned back against Cain for comfort, grateful when his hand found hers. "I do wish I could help, though."

Jeb waved dismissively. "Well, there's precious little you can do right now. But I'll remember it later."

Jacob folded the paper he'd been writing on and said, "If there's nothing else, sir, I need to find Lou and get a rider. I've a report to send to the Queen before we move. It's a duty we've both neglected."

"Go on. I think Lou's across the-"

"Wait!" DG grabbed Jacob's wrist, remembering- and all the while wishing she wasn't- that the Witch had moved objects with a simple wave of her hand. "I might not be able to magic an army across the O.Z., but I'm sure I can send a piece of paper back to Finaqua." She forced a smile as if it wasn't at all a risky thing to be proposing. "It's worth a try, right?"

"Thought we were going to use as little of your magic as possible," Cain said. "Only when it's necessary."

DG wanted nothing more than to turn around and hug him, but she made herself look at his son instead. "Well, Jeb? Is it necessary?"

He answered with a reluctant nod. "And don't tell me it isn't, Father. The Queen needs to know our situation as soon as possible- should've known it days ago. You know that's so."

"So, all right, then." DG scoured her memories, foggy as they were, for Tutor's lessons. She remembered him saying that magic was a force for taking- take the air, make it move, make a doll spin... take something from one place, put it in another…

But, of course, he'd also said that magic would take from its user. Take and keep on taking.

"Your Highness, does my sister have a room in the palace?" Jacob asked abruptly.

DG nodded. "Yeah, sure. It's just down the hall from the one Az and I shared. Why?"

Jacob held out a folded scrap of paper, smudged with the charcoal he'd used to write. "Send the report to her, if possible, Your Highness. She'll deliver it immediately, and it will ensure your mother has someone beside her when she reads of what's happened."

"Right. Yeah. That's a good idea," DG said, realizing how hard it would be for her mother to be strong despite all the bad news they were sending. She let her hand hover over the paper, wondering if she could truly get it to Finaqua at all. She looked at the three grim-faced men around her. "Here goes."

* * *

The women who'd come to present arguments before the throne had returned to the Great Hall, and drawn in with them neighbors, friends, and more than a few members of the palace guard who ought to have been off duty. Rose and Tara, the court ladies, moved among them, doing their best to be entertaining, and Ambrose paced back and forth, looking anxious and impatient.

Azkadellia stood in the shadows, watching them all wait for her, knowing she had to step forward. The people wanted to hear their Crown Princess speak, and had already been put off once.

A gentle touch on her arm made her turn. "Viewer," she said in surprise. "You wish to hear also?"

Raw gave her one of his toothy smiles. "People happy. When Princess is wise."

"Will I be wise?" Azkadellia murmured.

"Yes," Raw answered simply.

That was enough.

Azkadellia drew a breath and stepped into the hall. Immediately, all who were gathered bowed low. They bowed low to her, and only rose up again once she'd passed by them. She tried to pretend it didn't raise goosebumps on her arms.

She passed Shiloh, who lifted his eyes to meet hers for the barest moment- as much reassurance as a commoner could give a Princess under the circumstances- and she tried to smile.

She took her place before the throne and looked out over the people. Ambrose gave a sudden start and hurried to her side, where he should have been all along, in case she wanted his advice. He gestured toward his damaged head to explain his lapse in protocol and shrugged.

Azkadellia motioned for two women who'd sought her judgment to step forward. The night before Cecily had helped her commit the details of their identities to memory. The petitioner was Haley Sutter, whose husband and eldest son were both under Jacob Tiery's command in Second Company. The respondent, Nellie Kay, had no children yet of age to serve, but her husband was also away, under Tobian Grayson's command in Seventh Company.

It was a tragedy that women whose husbands were fighting for a common cause would quarrel, but there they were.

Waiting.

Azkadellia swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat, thinking of all her childhood lessons in diction and diplomacy. She'd been taught to be well-spoken. The Witch had prized it, used it, but she needed it back now.

"Let this be known to all assembled," she said determinedly, "My decision today is as binding as the law that empowers me to make it. Once I have said all I must, this matter is closed, and precedent is set if the same issue should arise again."

There was a general murmur of consent.

Azkadellia fixed her eyes on the respondent. "Mrs. Kay, you have trespassed on lands given to Mrs. Sutter by the Queen, but I have thought long on the argument you presented to explain your motive. Therefore, I rule that you may keep the land-" there were several gasps and startled whispers, and Azkadellia saw the way the petitioner's face fell. She raised her voice to command attention once more, "But there is a condition. You must turn over its yield entirely to Mrs. Sutter to do with as she pleases."

Again, the noises of surprise rippled through the crowd.

"But- that is, Your Highness-" Mrs. Kay stuttered, "My family needs the food that land provides, as I have told you! What of my children?"

"They have accompanied you, and I see no sign they are malnourished or otherwise unhealthy," Azkadellia answered. "Moreover, if it had truly been their needs, rather than the advantage of property, that drove you to violate our laws, you would have begged for my ruling yesterday. No mother would have waited willingly if it meant prolonging her child's suffering."

At that, the woman had the grace to look ashamed. She bowed her head and stepped back. "I withdraw my claim to the land, Your Highness, and submit to the law's punishment for trespassing it."

Azkadellia winced at the phrase, a holdover from the Witch's rule; the formal language of annuals before would have had a person submit to the law's justice, rather than its punishment.

She would take that back from the Witch next.

She turned to Mrs. Sutter. "Petitioner, your lands are returned to you. As for punishment, Mrs. Kay, I believe this day has been sufficient. But let this be very clear: if we are to survive, we cannot look to grasp and gain. We must live in service to one another."

"Oh, Azkadee, that's brilliant!" Ambrose said over the swell of approval in the hall.

Near the back, she caught sight of silently applauding Shiloh. And she started, seeing her mother standing beside him. And smiling.

Her mother was smiling- beaming- at her.

Azkadellia scarcely had time to acknowledge it before Cecily came running into the hall, which she never did. Her face was very white, and there was a paper clutched it her hand. Neglecting all etiquette, she blurted out, "A message! It appeared in my chambers, Highness! From the army."

"DG," Azkadellia breathed. She saw her mother hurrying forward, and became aware the whole crowd was waiting for her once more. She made herself ask, "Is the news good?"

"No, Your Highness," Cecily answered. "Mostly, it is very grave."

* * *

Ahamo regained consciousness slowly. As he became more aware he realized that he was lying on cold stone, that his arms were bound behind his back, and that he had no idea how much time he'd lost. He tried to move his hands, numb from the position they'd been forced to endure, and groaned.

A door somewhere near his head creaked open and a pair of heavy boots appeared in his line of sight. The world tilted sharply as he was hauled to his feet, leaving him slightly nauseous.

His legs didn't seem willing to support him, but they didn't need to with two Longcoats holding him in place. He looked blearily from one to the other, trying to discern what was about to happen. He was sharp enough to figure out he'd been drugged after his capture, but it wasn't clear why he'd been allowed to wake up.

Then the door opened again, and the man who'd been the Witch's commander- Zero, his fuzzy mind supplied- approached him. He tensed, wondering if he had enough strength to throw off his guards- even as he knew he didn't.

Zero smiled maliciously. "Consort Ahamo. You have some old… friends… who are very eager to see you."


	17. Three Armies Marching

Title: The Good Witch

Chapter: Three Armies Marching

Warnings: Mortars, and bullets, and bayonets- oh my!

Summary: The Witch is gone, but that doesn't mean the war is over. More battles for the Queen's Army.

Disclaimer: Yeah. It's not mine.

* * *

The Viewer, Raw, was playing with the children when Azkadellia came out from the palace. She watched him lead them on a chase through the tall grasses, and she wondered if he was doing it because DG had done it, or because he could sense how happy they were when they were at play. There was so little happiness in Finaqua otherwise. The fate of the Queen's Army, and of her father- and she tried not to flinch at the thought of him- were too uncertain.

She would have gladly watched the game a while longer, but the familiar scrape of Shiloh's crutches on what remained of a cobblestone walkway made her turn. She moved to meet him, acknowledging his awkward bow with the best smile as she could manage. He always saw the Princess when he looked at her, never the Witch, and she cherished that.

"Your Highness," he said warmly, "I'd hoped I would find you, and here you are. My timing is fortunate."

"My mother is taking audiences," Azkadellia answered, stopping before she added how often, as of late, the Queen had done so, or how much she couldn't stand to listen. Because Longcoats had her father, the war kept raging on, and no one could say anything of consequence.

Shiloh gave her a knowing look. "The people are afraid, Your Highness. They want to know our army is well and marching toward victory."

"And my mother must tell them that our army marches in search of friends it may not have." Azkadellia forced herself not to think on it further, to find something else to focus on. "Why did you hope to find me?"

"I- oh, yes. To ask a favor, Your Highness." Carefully, so as not to upset his balance, Shiloh drew a worn, battered book from his beneath jacket and held it out to her. "Lord Ambrose found this for me in the library, thinking it undamaged, but I'm afraid it's missing several pages."

"_The Firebringer_," Az murmured, smoothing her hands over the cover. "My father used to tell us this story-" she waited while the fear for his life flared up and slowly subsided- "every year after the first snowfall. He wanted to remind us that even though the O.Z. was growing dark and cold, we'd been given warmth and light to sustain us."

Shiloh smiled as he took the thin volume back from her. "I thought I would pass that lesson on to my students, Your Highness, but I need someone to recall the parts that have been lost. Am I right in thinking you can do it?"

"There's so much," Az said, thinking beyond the book's pages. "But perhaps Cecily can help, as well." She knew that would please the teacher and make the task of remembering the old story easier. Cecily's memory was less cluttered. Less sullied.

Shiloh said, "I would welcome her help, of course, Your Highness. Shall we look for her together?" He shifted his grip on his crutches so she could put her hand in the crook of his arm.

With her at his side, he deftly navigated the stairs that led back into the palace. In the main hall the guards informed them that Cecily was in her chamber, mending garments for the Queen. Azkadellia thought- as she often did- how wise Cecily's mother had been to insist her daughter learn practical skills alongside courtly ones at an early age. There had been no learning after the Witch came.

She heard the crying long before she and Shiloh reached Cecily's door, and it scared her because there should not have been anything new to cry for. She immediately rushed forward, hearing Shiloh's crutches scrabble on the floor as he hurried to keep up. Somehow, he reached the door just after she did and was the one who pushed it open.

Near the windowsill, Cecily bolted to her feet, trying to wipe off more tears than her hands could handle. "Oh! Your Highness, forgive me, I didn't know you were-" but she got no further before Shiloh had an arm around her, pulling her towards him.

"Let me see the report," Azkadellia said, certain that more news from the army had come.

But Cecily only looked at her in confusion. "There is no report, Your Highness, save the one you've seen already." She turned her face into Shiloh's shoulder so that her next words came out muffled, "I wish I could tell you otherwise."

For a moment Az was sure she had misheard. "Why?" she demanded. "Why would you wish for more ill news?"

"Your Highness, it's her brother writing the reports," Shiloh chided. "It's the only way she knows he lives."

Cecily stepped back from his embrace and tried to dry her eyes again. "Gods forgive me- and you, as well, Your Highness- I will rejoice no matter what he writes if only for that reason."

"Oh," Az breathed. "Oh, Cecily, of course he lives. Jeb would make it his duty to write if it wasn't so."

Cecily nodded. "I keep telling myself so, Your Highness, and try to remember I'm not the only one who waits for news. This is no harder for me than anyone else."

Shiloh said, "We must all pray that the east will give us the means for victory."

And Azkadellia couldn't help giving voice to her doubts. "The masters of the eastern cities were slaughtered. It happened so quickly." She remembered every grisly death, even though the memories were the Witch's and she didn't want them. "Their successors paid for the peace in platinum and arms rather than fighting on." She glanced at Cecily again as a new thought occurred to her. "What will your brother say to them? Will it gall him to make such friends?"

Cecily shook her head. "It matters more what Jeb Cain will say, Your Highness, but my brother knows men seldom live up to the oaths they swear."

And Az remembered- again, because the Witch did- that the men who'd sworn to protect the Ayalo family had scattered after Lord Devon's death, leaving his widow and children defenseless. Only Cecily and Jacob had survived, separated from one another, hiding their noble birth with their mother's name.

One day she would ask them how they had managed it.

Shiloh spoke again, "Whatever choices the easterners made in the past, I think that they will agree to join the war, Your Highness, especially if the guildfighters do the same. And our army must take them. They cannot afford to do otherwise."

"No," Az agreed. "But the past always matters to someone."

* * *

"Hail Dorothy, Princess of the O.Z.!"

"Princess of the O.Z.! Princess of the O.Z.!"

DG listened to guildfighters cheer her entry into their territory, a far cry from the way they'd treated her during their first encounter. But this time she wasn't a stranger who'd just been blown in from The Other Side; she was a princess- cold, tired, and covered in weeks-worth of mud and rain- but still a princess, and arriving in the midst of an army.

She wasn't sure which the guildfighters respected more, but she guessed it didn't matter.

The chieftain, a fierce little man who called himself Black Spear, put his hands up so that she could place hers palm to palm with his. "Long Journeyed Princess," he greeted her - "and Slayer of the Sorceress."

She started to contradict him- to explain how the Witch's machine had backfired- but Jeb looked her way and gave his head a subtle shake. Black Spear, unaware of their quick exchange, kept calling out various titles as he ushered her toward a cluster of feather-bedecked guildfighter women. They were all his wives, he told her proudly, before turning to inspect the army she'd come in with.

At that point, barely half of the soldiers had arrived; the rest were still making their way across the O.Z.'s grassy midlands, spread out to lessen the chance of their detection because Jacob had been certain the Longcoats would be looking for them. DG was listening to Jeb explain as much when Black Spear's wives began tugging her hands, trying to get her to move.

"Wait," she said, digging in her heels. "I want to stay and talk to your chieftain."

"You will talk, but not in this state," said one of the women, patting her arm as if to reassure her. "Come now, your men and ours will wait."

DG realized that Black Spear intended to speak with her in public- like the audiences her mother held before the throne in Finaqua- and she knew she didn't look very regal. She let the women lead her away, hoping they would transform her into a proper princess, and hoping she could keep her chilled, exhausted brain working a while longer.

They didn't give her a chance to wash up or change clothes- they actually seemed to approve of her rain-soaked state- but they did tie feathers in her hair and take the beaded bracelets from their own arms to put on hers. She tried to tell them she couldn't take their jewelry, but they were insistent.

One explained, "If we each give a gift to you the gods will reward us with future gifts, too."

Once they had decorated her to their approval they led her back into the circle of open space between their huts. Most of the guildfighters had dispersed and were helping the soldiers sling tents and get the cook fires going. Only about two dozen or so remained- clan leaders, she thought, remembering the hasty cultural lessons she'd gotten from Jacob during the march. They all bent a knee as she passed them, and pressed their fists against their chests.

Black Spear was seated on a wooden dais, flanked by two men who might have been his brothers or his servants; it was difficult to tell. Meanwhile Jeb, Jacob, Lou, and Will Arie- the young captain of Tenth Company- were seated on low benches around a growing bonfire. DG would have happily joined them to get warm, but because of her status- and, perhaps, because they were trying to make amends for how she'd been treated before- the guildfighters brought out a carved chair similar to Black Spear's and set it on the dais. She stepped up to join him, trying to move in the calm, straight-backed way that her mother and Az did so effortlessly.

"Three armies," Black Spear announced once she'd seated herself. "Three armies marching we have seen. Longcoats, Lords, and those for the Queen."

Jeb leaned in at that- in part, DG thought, to cover the way Jacob had visibly tensed beside him. "We weren't aware the Lords' Army had traveled this way," he said. "We thank you for the valuable news."

Black Spear nodded graciously, and the two men beside him thumped the ground with their staffs.

"The last I saw of the Lords' Army, they were massed just north of Central City," said Will, glancing around like he expected someone to scold him for speaking out of turn. DG guessed he still felt a little out of his depth, being new to command and away from his men.

Black Spear said, "This Lords' Army fights for the city, too, but three days past we saw them come through." He gestured off into the woods with one arm, tracing what was presumably the other army's path.

"Guess they're sending men east, too, sir," Lou said to Jeb. To Black Spear, he asked, "How many of them did you see?"

"Less than you. They look like you, too, but their arms were dark blue."

"They have blue arms?" DG asked skeptically.

"He means they were wearing armbands, Your Highness," Jacob answered. "Dark blue is the traditional color of the Ozian nobility." His voice was oddly tight, but DG knew it would attract unwanted questions if she reached out to him, so she forced herself to ignore it.

Black Spear was already looking wary. "There is one thing that must be known. Will you fight both armies to defend the throne?"

"We will," Jeb said immediately- and DG let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when the other captains, including Jacob, nodded their agreement. Jeb continued, "We hope you'll honor us by joining our fight, and allowing us to continue eastward to gather more men and arms."

One of the guildfighters on the periphery said, "For that you must go to Esterlee, the only city left beside the sea. This is where your men and arms will be."

Another spit at the ground, saying, "There are no men in Esterlee. They paid the Sorceress to let them go free!"

DG started to ask what they were talking about, but Jeb spoke over her, "We'll judge them for ourselves, so long as we have permission to cross these lands to do so."

Black Spear rubbed his chin as if it was a difficult matter to consider. "You may cross," he said eventually, "because the Gale Princess is in your command. Leave Lords and Longcoats to us till you come back to our land."

The clan leaders stomped the ground and Jeb shook hands with all of them. DG stood, uncertain if she should do the same to show her gratitude- but as soon as she was on her feet they all bowed to her as if they wanted to thank her for inviting them to the war. She allowed Black Spear to take her hands and raise them as high as he was able, listening to the cheer that went up as he did so. Beneath the bracelets she'd been given, her arms prickled with gooseflesh, and she hoped that no one would notice.

"Now," Black Spear said, loud enough for his voice to carry throughout the village, "this talk is done. Eat, drank, sing, dance-" each word was punctuated by more stomping and cheering- "until the next morning's sun!"

* * *

The sound of drums reached Wyatt's ears just as the sun was setting. From his position atop the ridge that overlooked the guildfighter lands, he could see smoke rising from the bonfires where the warriors would be dancing, asking for the gods' favor as was their tradition.

"That's a welcome sight," said Micah Frase, the new captain of Ninth Company. The marching had worn him down, but Wyatt knew that he and the other- Will Arie, in Tenth- had been given captaincies for their minds, not for mileage under their feet. The young man took a moment to catch his breath, then continued, "I grew up in a town not far from this place. My father brought me out to hear the drums and see the fires just after the war began. He swore it would be over quickly."

Wyatt remembered doing the same with Jeb, but he hadn't made the same promise. He'd been about to ride out to defend Central City, even though every tin man knew it couldn't be defended, not against the army the Witch had raised. He'd shown Jeb the fires so his boy would know there'd be others who'd fight even if he fell. "Been a long time since then," he said.

"That's surely so." Micah turned and beckoned to a younger soldier who was struggling up to join them. "Listen, boy, the guildfighters are calling down the gods to bless our war. Do you hear them?"

The boy titled his head and nodded eagerly. "Does that mean we're almost there, sir?"

"No more than two more miles. Go on, pass the word through the ranks-"

But before the boy could run off, there was a roar and a flash of light- and in the moment before the mortar shell exploded in front of them, Wyatt saw unfamiliar soldiers rushing through the woods. Then he was forced to the ground by the blast, rolling to avoid the shower of shrapnel and blood.

"Ambush!" he shouted as soon as he had breath enough. "Ambush! Don't let them drive you back!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Micah vault to his feet and take off toward his own men. The boy they'd been speaking to lay still on the ground, body twisted and torn.

But Wyatt couldn't dwell on that.

"Micah, come around!" he shouted. "Flank the bastards!" Whether the younger captain heard or not, he didn't know. He didn't have time to look. Instead he forced himself into the rhythm of battle: aim, fire, ignore the weariness, forget the cold, aim, fire.

A man lunged toward him, striking his arm with enough force to jar the rifle from his grasp. He twisted away, got his knife out, and raked the blade across his attacker's torso. "Hold this ground!" he yelled to his men. "Hold this ground!"

* * *

It took three minutes for Jeb and the other captains to call their men to arms, and another twelve for them to reach the battlefield. Too long, he kept thinking, too long. There were bodies littering the forest floor and men fighting hand to hand, and knew he shouldn't have relaxed, shouldn't have let himself think that making it across the plains meant safety.

He fixed the bayonet to his rifle as he ran and flung himself into the battle.

He almost didn't see the fist that flew towards head, but at the last minute he rolled to get away from it. He fired one shot from his knees, then used the gun as a crutch to haul himself back upright. Two more men charged towards him, and two shots took them down in quick succession. He could see they weren't Longcoats, could see their blue armbands-

"Jeb!" his father shouted to him. "Get your men up! They're making a run south!"

He risked a glance up, saw the move, saw Jacob leading Second to counter it- and he felt more than saw the blast of magical energy that protected them from enemy fire. Then a rifle came swinging towards him like a club, and he brought his own up to parry the blow, feeling the force of it all the way down to his wrists. He shifted his grip, got a finger on the trigger, and put a round into his attacker's chest.

He looked around for his father, couldn't see him in the smoke and fading daylight. Couldn't see much of anything through stinging eyes.

Mortar fire exploded to his right, splintering the trees, the ground, the men in the way- and Jeb wondered who'd risk using such a weapon with the men fighting in close quarters. He covered his head to shield himself from the shrapnel, grimacing when a twisted piece of something hit his arm.

Then, unexpectedly, a series of shrill whistles cut through the noise of the battle, and someone shouted, "Cease fire! By all the gods, cease fire!"

The enemy soldiers were confused, but they immediately started to lower their rifles. Jeb echoed the order to his own men, forcibly parting those who remained combatant. When he was sure the peace would hold, he said in a loud voice, "This is Jeb Cain of the Queen's Army. Who speaks for all of you?"

"Captain Renn Farina, Army of the Lords In Exile. Your second has me at his mercy."

"Damnit, Jacob," Jeb muttered under his breath. He could see the enemy soldiers tensing, wondering if their captain was going to need a hasty rescue. Not knowing if that would be so or not, Jeb hurriedly made his was across the lines, praying all the while that the men around him stayed in their places.

He found his second on the far side of the battlefield, stock still with his pistol pointed at another man's head. DG was on the ground behind him, and it was obvious that he'd been trying to shield her- and would have failed- but this man who would have been their deaths had dropped his weapons and surrendered.

"Sir," Jacob said in a taut voice, "Renn Farina commands this battalion, sent to gather support for the Lords In Exile. He's had a bad shock having seen who he's just led his men against."

"Gods, Jacob, if I'd known you were-"

"Shut up," Jeb said. He bent and helped DG to her feet, murmuring, "You okay, Princess?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, even though he could feel her trembling. She squeezed the hand he had on her arm and added, "Think we can go to back to the guildfighters now?"

He gave her a quick grin before turning back to the situation at hand. "Jacob, put your gun away. You won't get cause to use it-" the enemy captain looked as stricken as his second did- "And, Captain Farina, your men will disarm and accompany us to the guildfighter village at once. You have my word none will be harmed in our custody."

"Yes, of course." The man's eyes were still on Jacob. "Please," he began, "you have to know I- I thought you were- I'd have never-"

Jacob shook his head. "Don't, Renn. Not here where men have died at our command." He turned to Jeb almost pleadingly. "Sir, with your permission, I'll see to the weapons and the prisoners. Night's falling fast now."

"Go." Jeb waited until Jacob was out of sight, counted ten more seconds in his head, then put his own weapon on the enemy captain. "Start talking. Now."


End file.
